Arthur Goes Fourth
by Dead Composer
Summary: The adventures of Arthur and his friends as they enter a strange new world: fourth grade!
1. Beat the Brain

Disclaimer: Marc Brown owns the Arthur characters and has more lawyers than I do. Beat, Van, Odette, Mrs. Stiles, Pickles the Pomeranian, etc. are original characters and I don't have a copyright, so be gentle with them.

* * *

It was Monday morning, and the first day of fourth grade for Arthur and the gang. Arthur, Buster, Francine, Muffy, Brain, and Binky were gathered in front of the school bulletin board, bracing themselves for the tidings which the recently posted class rosters would bring. 

"So, who volunteers?" asked Arthur. Everyone was silent. "Come on," he goaded them, "whoever we get can't possibly be worse than Mr. Ratburn."

"In retrospect, Mr. Ratburn wasn't all that bad," Brain reflected.

"Are you kidding?" retorted Binky. "He was a monster! I never learned so much in my whole life!"

"Whoever I get," said Brain worriedly, "I just hope it isn't...Rodentia!"

Begin Brain fantasy sequence.

Brain wandered down a darkened hallway, stopped at room number 22, and stood motionless before the door, hesitating to open it. Suddenly the door opened from the inside, and Rodentia appeared in the doorway with a guitar strapped over her shoulder and a sock puppet on her hand. "Room for one more, honey!" gushed the rat woman, and the sock puppet spoke along with her. Horrified, Brain screamed and ran away.

End Brain fantasy sequence.

"Okay, okay, make the injured woman do all the work," grumbled Francine, whose right arm was in a cast. Looking over the rosters, she announced, "I've got Mrs. Stiles."

"Stiles?" mused Muffy. "Haven't heard of her. She must be new. Sounds very fashionable, though."

"We all have Mrs. Stiles," said Francine. "Fern and Sue Ellen have her too."

"What a relief," said Brain.

"What about George?" asked Arthur.

"He's in a special class because of his dyslexia," Francine reminded him. Then she gasped. "Omigosh, Jenna's in Rodentia's class!"

"The poor girl," said Brain, lowering his head.

"She's got it easy," Buster remarked.

"Who else is in our class?" asked Arthur.

"Let me see," said Francine. "Van Cooper. Isn't he the kid in the wheelchair?"

"I know him," said Buster. "He's really friendly."

"And here's another," said Francine. "Beatrice Simon. I don't know her."

"I know her," said Sue Ellen, who had justed walked up to the group. "We met in England. She's really cool."

"Room 18," Francine reported. "We'd better get going."

In classroom number 18, teacher Mrs. Jean Stiles was setting up papers on her desk. She was a polar bear woman with shaggy white hair down to her shoulders. In the front of the room Van Cooper, a duck boy with blond hair, sat in a motorized wheelchair and chatted with Fern, who was seated in the next desk over. Also in the front sat Beatrice "Beat" Simon, a brown-haired girl who had ears like a rabbit's and a nose like an aardvark's, due to her mixed-species heritage.

The door opened and Arthur, Buster, Francine, Muffy, Brain, Binky, and Sue Ellen filed in. Beat jumped out of her desk and happily greeted Sue Ellen in a refined British accent.

"Is it really you, Sue Ellen?" she gushed.

"Such a long time, Beat," said the cat girl wistfully.

"I'm so grateful for everything your father did for us," Beat told her.

"Don't mention it."

"Too late, I already did!" The two girls giggled.

As the kids selected their desks, Mrs. Stiles counted them off and checked her roster. Seeing that all ten were present, she started to write her name, "Mrs. Stiles", on the chalkboard. "How are you all doing today?" she asked the class.

"Fine," mumbled the kids.

"I'd like to welcome you all to your first day of fourth grade. As you can see, my name is Mrs. Stiles, and you can call me that or call me 'ma'am', whichever you prefer. I'll be your teacher for the remainder of the school year, God willing. I understand that most of you spent third grade under the tutelage of Nigel Ratburn, who is notorious for giving out large amounts of homework. You'll feel right at home here."

The kids groaned at the news.

"We'll start every day with a roll call." Mrs. Stiles glanced at her roster. "Susan Ellen Armstrong."

"Here."

"Clark Philip Barnes."

"Uh...that's me," said Binky.

"Buster Cletis Baxter."

"Here."

"Van Wilson Cooper."

"Here," said the duck boy in the wheelchair.

"Mary Alice Crosswire."

"Right here," said Muffy.

"Francine Alice Frensky."

"Yo."

"Alan Wayne Powers."

"Here," said The Brain.

"Arthur Timothy Read."

"Here."

"Beatrice Margaret Simon."

"Present," said the rabbit-aardvark girl.

"Fern May Walters."

"Last, as usual." Fern's gloomy comment caused the other kids to chuckle.

"All present and accounted for," said the new teacher. "Before we get into the educational part of today's session, I would like each of you to stand before the class and tell us what you did over your summer vacation. You don't have to give a speech, just summarize. We'll do this in reverse alphabetical order, so, Fern, you get to be first this time. Also, when you go up, tell the class if you have a nickname or any name that you prefer to be called by."

Fern was the first to stand before the class. "My name's Fern. This summer I went on a family vacation to California. I got to go to Sea World and see some cool sharks and killer whales. Also, I read five Sherlock Holmes books and the complete poems of Emily Dickinson, and I wrote a lot of poems myself. And I acted in a community theatre play. Thank you."

Beat was next. "I'm Beatrice Simon. You can call me Beat. I just moved here from London, England, and I didn't really have a summer vacation to speak of. My father got a situation as a professor at the university."

Buster raised his hand. "Situation?" he puzzled.

"Job," Beat explained. "And my mum writes fantasy books. And none of us would be here if not for Sue Ellen's dad. Thank you."

Arthur stood before the class. "I'm Arthur Read. You can call me Arthur. This summer I got to go to the beach and to Washington, D.C. And I read 'Henry Skreever and the Cabbage of Mayhem" five times. And I broke my glasses and had to get new ones. And I played the piano and argued with my sister D.W. a lot. That's about it. Thank you."

Brain followed. "My name's Alan Powers, but all my friends call me The Brain."

Beat giggled. "What?" said Brain peevishly.

"And you let them?" said the British girl.

"Let them what?"

"Call you The Brain. I wouldn't."

The new girl's remark annoyed Brain, but he continued. "This summer I built my own telescope, grew some quartz crystals, read some Stephen Ducking books, volunteered at the science museum, and managed to wade into the shallow end of the pool without freaking out. Thank you."

Francine stood up next. "I'm Francine Frensky. As you can see, this summer I broke my arm. I was riding at the saddle club and the saddle wasn't fastened right, so I slipped and fell off the horse. That was the most exciting thing that happened to me this summer. As soon as this heals, I'm back on that horse. There's still a little room left on my cast if you want to sign it. Thank you."

Muffy followed her. "This summer my dad opened a new location at 5th and Lopez. I bought a new wardrobe. My mom had a baby. His name's Tyson. And if you didn't catch the first part, the new location is at 5th and Lopez. You may want to write that down."

Van piloted his wheelchair to the front of the room and faced the class. "I'm Van Cooper. Some people call me 'Moving Van', but Van is shorter. I didn't really go anywhere this summer, but I read a lot of books and practice the violin a lot. Thanks."

Buster was next. "My name's Buster. This summer I went to New Mexico with my dad. I got to visit Mr. Morris, who used to be the custodian. I also got to go to Roswell, but it wasn't tourist season, so there weren't any aliens. My mom is getting married again, so I'll have a new dad. Thank you."

Binky stood before the class. "My name's Binky Barnes. This summer I spent two months in a juvenile detention center for breaking and entering. It wasn't really my fault, but I learned some important lessons while I was in juvie. Thank you."

Sue Ellen stood up next. "My name's Sue Ellen. This summer I went to India with my parents. We spent most of our time in New Delhi, but we got to travel around and see some cool things, like palaces and elephants. I also picked up some souvenirs, which I'll bring to show-and-tell. My parents are in Indonesia now, so I have a nanny, Carla. Thank you."

"Thank you all for sharing your summer vacation experiences," said Mrs. Stiles. "Now the first class of the day is history, and this semester we're going to cover the Civil War. Who can tell me anything about the Civil War?" Beat raised her hand. "Yes, Beatrice?"

"The Southern states seceded from the Union in 1860 and 1861 in the following chronological order: South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Texas, Virginia, Arkansas, Tennessee, North Carolina. The war officially began when Confederate forces fired on Fort Sumter in Charleston, South Carolina, on April 12, 1861."

The other kids were astounded at Beat's display of intelligence, except for Sue Ellen, who gave Beat a high-five. Brain peered at her through the corner of his eye, wondering how it was possible that a mere girl could have so much knowledge. Mrs. Stiles counted on her fingers for a few seconds. "Yes, that's correct," she acknowledged. "Very impressive for someone who's new to this country."

"It's nothing, really," said Beat modestly. "History just happens to be one of my strongest subjects." Brain let out a relieved sigh. "Along with science and maths." Brain swallowed anxiously.

"Wonderful," said the teacher. "Now, who can tell me what the reasons were behind the secession of the Southern states?"

Brain looked over at Beat, who smiled at him but didn't raise her hand. Since no one else answered, Brain responded. "The Southern states seceded to protect their right to keep slaves, which made up the economic base of the cotton plantations."

"Very good, Alan. Now, the first battle of the Civil War was the Battle of Bull Run. Can anyone tell me the details of that battle?"

This time Beat raised her hand without hesitation. "In the Battle of Bull Run, known to Southerners as the Battle of Manassas, the Confederate general "Stonewall" Jackson and his brigade resisted an attack by the Union Army under General Irvin McDowell, forcing them to fall back to Washington."

The kids sitting next to Brain were starting to notice his uneasiness.

"Excellent, Beatrice," said Mrs. Stiles.

When first period ended, Beat caught up with Brain as the kids filed out of the classroom. "Not bad, Alan," she commended him. "You really know your history."

"My _friends_ call me Brain," he reminded the girl.

"Then they're not really your friends, are they?"

Beat strolled away with Sue Ellen, leaving Brain mystified by her statement.

"Your parents are in Indonesia?" Beat marveled as she caught up with the events of Sue Ellen's life. "What a shame. I had hoped to see them again. Why didn't they take you along?"

"They thought it would be better for me to stay here," Sue Ellen answered. "I'm not sure why. It was so hard. I really wanted to go."

"Maybe it's for the best," Beat remarked.

As math class commenced, Beat and Sue Ellen deliberately took seats on either side of Brain. "How are you at maths, Alan?" Beat asked the boy.

"It's not 'maths'," Brain protested. "It's 'math'."

"In England we say 'maths'," Beat pointed out.

"In England you drive on the wrong side of the street," Brain muttered.

"Sorry?" said Beat.

"Sorry for what?"

"No, I'm not apologizing. When an English person says, 'Sorry?' it means, 'What?'"

"Then why don't you say 'What?' instead?" Brain grumbled.

"Sorry," said Beat apologetically.

"Then why don't you say 'What?' instead?" Brain repeated a little louder.

"Please be quiet, Alan," Mrs. Stiles requested.

"Sorry," said Brain.

"Are you two all finished apologizing?" asked Sue Ellen.

"This test is a review of the mathematical principles you all should have learned in the third grade," said Mrs. Stiles after she had given each pupil a copy. "You have fifteen minutes."

Once the kids had finished their tests, Mrs. Stiles graded them and handed them back. Brain's score came as no great surprise—100. Beat proudly flashed her completed test at him—also a 100 score. Brain wondered why the girl was so eager to show off her intelligence.

"That's all for today," said Mrs. Stiles after the final bell rang. "Remember, tomorrow is show-and-tell day, so I want you all to bring something that's very special to you."

As the kids milled about in the classroom, Francine invited Sue Ellen to join the gang at the Sugar Bowl. "Sorry, I can't," the cat girl replied. "I'm going to Beat's place for tea and crumpets."

So Francine approached Fern. "Sure," said the poodle girl. "But Mrs. Stiles wants me to stay after for a few minutes."

After all the students had left except for Fern, Mrs. Stiles addressed her. "If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to see some samples of the poetry you wrote over the summer."

"Most of my poetry is very personal," said Fern, "but I have a few things here that I can let you see." Reaching into her folder, Fern pulled out a few sheets of paper and handed them to Mrs. Stiles.

"Poetry has always been one of my great loves," said the teacher wistfully. "That, and the stage." She started to recite one of the poems. "Binky the Bully."

"How did that one get in there?" Fern wondered. "I wrote it a year ago."

Mrs. Stiles read the poem out loud, and started to laugh as she read. By the end she was laughing almost uncontrollably.

"Binky is a bully,

A bully through and through.

You can't take a stick to him,

The stick would break in two.

If you throw a rock at him

It bounces off his chest.

The only way to humble him

Is make him take a test."

Fern's embarrassment grew as she witnessed the teacher's reaction. "It's a stupid poem," she lamented.

"No, it's not!" Mrs. Stiles chuckled. "It's so funny! Especially the chest part! Are all your poems as funny as this one?"

"No, some of them are searingly tragic."

"Good," the teacher remarked. "Tragedy is as essential to life as comedy. Do you mind if I hold on to these until tomorrow?

"No problem."

"Are these your only copies?" asked the teacher.

"I copy all my poems on the computer," Fern answered. "That way I don't lose them if there's a fire or something."

"I'll tell you what, Fern," said Mrs. Stiles warmly. "If you let me read your poems, I'll let you read some that I've written."

"I'd love that!"

Mrs. Stiles stood up from her desk. "So you're on your way to the Sugar Bowl. I like that place. Let's go together."

They walked side by side to the classroom door, and then Fern paused. "Chest," she said with a grin. Mrs. Stiles began to laugh again.

In one of the hallways, Arthur and Buster approached the distraught-looking Brain. "Are you okay?" asked Arthur.

"My life is over!" Brain mourned.

"No, it's not," Buster pointed out. "You're only nine."

"Did you see her?" Brain asked him.

"See who?"

"Buster, I think he's talking about that_girl_ who's smarter than he is," said Arthur mockingly.

"Oh, that _girrrrl_ who's smarter than he is?" Buster joked.

"Stop it!" Brain groused. "Have pity on my suffering!"

"Sorry, Brain," said Arthur.

"_Girrrrrrrrl_..."

"Shut up, Buster."

"Hey, Brain," said Binky as he approached the three boys, "I never thought I'd see a_girl_ who's smarter than you."

"That's enough, Binky," said Arthur. "Brain needs to heal. He's been through a lot."

"Whenever I need to heal, you know where I go?" said Binky. "The Sugar Bowl!"

"How about that, Brain?" Arthur suggested. "You can drown your sorrows in ice cream."

"Sure, whatever."

Van rolled up alongside the group of boys as they walked toward the school exit. "What's up, guys?" he said in a friendly voice. "Hey, how about that smart girl? Wasn't she amazing?"

"Hey, Van, wanna come to the Sugar Bowl with us?" Arthur invited him.

"My mom says I can't have sugar," the duck boy replied.

"'Sugar Bowl' is just a name," said Buster. "It's really an ice cream shop."

"Uh, Buster, ice cream has sugar in it," Arthur reminded him.

"Oh, yeah."

* * *

Muffy and Francine were the first to meet at the Sugar Bowl. "What's your impression of Mrs. Stiles?" Francine asked her friend. "Better than Ratburn? Worse? The same?" 

"My impression?" replied Muffy as Fern and the new teacher walked into the shop unnoticed by her. "That woman is crying out for a makeover! Dingy white is sooo last year!"

"Hello, girls!" Mrs. Stiles greeted them.

"Er, ah, hello," said the embarrassed Muffy. "We were just_not_ talking about you."

"Fern was telling me all about the play she was in," said the teacher as she sat down with the girls.

"Oh, you mean 'Peter Pan'," said Muffy. "Yeah, she was really good."

"You da Pan, Fern! You da Pan!" added Francine.

"Yeah, playing a boy was easy," Fern reflected. "Take off the hair ribbon, put on some tights...who can tell?"

"Francine, do you mind if I sign your cast?" asked Mrs. Stiles.

"Go right ahead on."

"You won't believe this," said Mrs. Stiles as she signed Francine's cast, "but I used to be an actress myself."

"I don't believe it," said Muffy.

"My dad was a Texas cattle rancher. I grew up on the ranch. I should have done something practical, like marry a farm boy, but no, the call of Hollywood was too strong. So off I went, and I auditioned, and auditioned, and auditioned, and finally won a few roles."

"You were in movies?" Francine marveled.

"Yes, I was. But you've probably never seen them."

"Which ones?"

"Ever hear of 'Chicken Fried Love'?"

"Nope."

"'Death Wore a Derby'?"

"Nope again."

"Wait, I've heard of that one," Muffy chimed in. "I think."

"How about 'Terror of the Zombie Menace II'?"

"Haven't seen it," said Francine.

"That one went direct to video," Mrs. Stiles recounted. "But you've probably guessed by now that my movie career didn't go far. It was a long and bumpy road that got me from there to where I am now. But through it all, there was one thing that kept me from falling apart-the stage! I was Blanche in 'Streetcar', I was Rosalind in 'As You Like It', I was Anna Christie..."

"I haven't seen any of those either," said Francine.

"Those are stage plays, not movies."

As Mrs. Stiles related her experiences, five boys filed into the Sugar Bowl—Arthur, Buster, Binky, Brain, and the wheelchair-bound duck boy, Van. "Can I sign your cast, Francine?" he asked once he had pulled alongside the girls' table.

"Sure, Van."

"Van, I heard you say that you play the violin," said Muffy. "Are you good?"

"I think I'm pretty good," said Van modestly.

"I play the violin too." Muffy's tone became haughty. "I'm good at it, but some people don't appreciate beautiful music."

"I'm gonna play tomorrow for show-and-tell," said Van.

"Great! I look forward to it."

"I wish I could ride a horse," Van told Francine.

"I wish I could ride a horse too," Francine lamented. "And play soccer. And baseball. But no...I have to wait another two months."

"I have to wait longer," said Van darkly. "As in, the rest of my life. And who knows how long that will be."

"I'm sure you'll have a long, happy life like the rest of us," said Mrs. Stiles encouragingly. "Maybe even longer and happier."

"Optimism," said Van. "I like that."

* * *

At Beat's apartment, her parents—Roger Simon, a rabbit man, and Penny, an aardvark woman—were busily engaged. Roger was reading the newspaper, while Penny was typing on a computer. The tables were littered with all manner of papers. The doorbell rang and Mrs. Simon answered it, greeting Beat, Sue Ellen, and Carla. 

"Look who's here, Roger," she said warmly. "It's little Susy Ellen."

"Why, hello!" Mr. Simon welcomed the cat girl. "Look how you've grown!"

"This is Carla Fuente, my nanny," Sue Ellen introduced the Costa Rican woman.

"A pleasure," said Carla.

"Won't you sit down?" Mrs. Simon encouraged them. "We have hot tea and crumpets."

"We always have hot tea and crumpets," said Beat as she sat down. "We're English."

"I hope you don't mind the mess," said Mrs. Simon. "With all the writing we do, the paper has to go somewhere."

"Sue Ellen tells me that you're a university professor," Carla said to Mr. Simon.

"Indeed I am," affirmed the rabbit man. "Her father used his connections at the university to get me a situation in the political science department. And for that, we're eternally grateful."

"I met him in San Jose, Costa Rica," Carla related. "After that I moved to the United States and lived in Crown City. Then he hired me as a nanny, and I moved here."

"Crown City, eh?" Mr. Simon mused. "That's where we're going this weekend."

"I couldn't get out of there fast enough," Carla reflected. "It should be called Crime City."

"Trust me," said Mr. Simon, "you don't know how good you have it until you've been to London."

"Beat, how was your first day of school?" the girl's mother asked her.

"Most spendid, Mum. Sue Ellen has some great friends. One in particular, a very smart boy named Alan."

"As smart as you?"

"Yes, I think he is."

Mrs. Simon smirked. "Then don't let him get away."

"I assuredly won't, Mum," said Beat, giggling. "Although I think I annoy him, being English and mixed-species and all, but he'll get used to me."

* * *

The next day was Tuesday, and the kids gathered in the classroom, preparing for the start of school. Once again, Brain, Beat, and Sue Ellen were seated together, and Beat had a stack of sheets in front of her. "I made a time-lapse drawing of a hydrogen fusion reaction," she announced proudly. "What did you bring, Alan?" 

"I made a drawing of the lattice structure of carbon atoms in a diamond," the boy replied flatly.

"Diamonds!" Beat gushed. "You really do love me!" Brain groaned. "Only joking, Alan."

Brain stood up. "Hey, Francine, can I sign your cast again?" he called.

Beat shook her head as she watched Brain move his books to another desk. "No sense of humor."

"Maybe you caught him on a bad day," said Sue Ellen.

Mrs. Stiles called the class to order. "As you know, every Tuesday is show-and-tell day. We'll go alphabetically this time. Sue Ellen, you're first, and Fern, you're last, as usual."

Sue Ellen stood before the class, holding a small figurine in her hand. "This is a statue of Ganesha, a Hindu deity with the head of an elephant."

Binky was next; he held a baseball in one hand. "And then Sammy Salsa came to the plate, and on the first pitch he hit a pop fly, and the ball went up, up, and up, and came down into the stands, and bounced right off my chest."

To his chagrin, Mrs. Stiles started to laugh riotously.

"You don't believe me?"

"I'm sorry, Binky," the teacher chortled.

The bulldog boy sighed and walked back to his desk.

Buster showed the other kids a stuffed green figure. "This is an alien. Okay, it's not a real alien, but I got it at Roswell, and it glows in the dark."

"This is a Hungarian folk dance," said Van as he sat in his chair at the head of the room. He then proceeded to play beautifully on the violin, while the kids tapped their toes.

"I don't have anything to show you today," said Muffy, "but I have something to tell you. On Friday night at 6 pm, you're all invited to my house to see a movie on my spectacular 60-inch high definition TV. The movie will be 'The Fellowship of the Gourd'. Popcorn, snacks, and drinks will be provided, and a good time will be had by all. Also, you'll get to meet my new baby brother. I hope to see you all there."

Arthur spoke to Muffy during the class break. "I love that movie," he enthused. "I've seen it twice. I'll be there on Friday."

Beat approached Muffy after Arthur had gone. "Unfortunately I can't come on Friday. My parents and I are going to Crown City for the weekend."

Binky talked with Francine in the hallway about the teacher's strange reaction. "Why did she start laughing at me? I don't get it."

"Maybe she thinks you have comedy potential," Francine suggested. "She used to be a movie star, you know."

"Really?" Binky marveled.

"In fact, tonight Muffy and I are going to rent all the movies she's been in."

"Hmm," Binky mused. "Maybe if I get really good grades, I can get my own TV show."

Begin Binky fantasy sequence.

A Muppet version of Binky pranced about on a sound stage, mugging for the TV cameras. "Thank you, thank you, and welcome to the Binky Show!" he greeted the audience. "I'm your host, Binky the Dog! Now before we get started..."

As he spoke, a Muppet version of Sue Ellen rushed onto the stage. "Oh, Binky, I've kept the truth from you for too long," she gushed. "I love you!"

"Don't sweat it, Sue Ellen," was Muppet Binky's reply. "You can keep the truth from me for as long as you want."

"Binky, will you marry me?" pleaded Muppet Sue Ellen.

"Marry you? Are you crazy? We'd fight like cats and dogs!" Muppet Binky quipped. "Although it might be worth it, just to fix my mouse problem!"

"I'll fix you!" roared Muppet Sue Ellen, drawing back her fist for a mighty karate chop. "Hiiiii-yaah!"

End Binky fantasy sequence.

"Nah," said Binky, shaking his head. "My grades will never be that good."

After Francine left, he saw Brain walking by and waved. "Hey, Alan."

Brain nodded in reply, marveling that Binky had called him Alan for what must have been the first time. He saw Beat stroll by, with Muffy, Francine, Sue Ellen, and Fern swarming around her, and wondered how the girl had become so popular so soon. Then he noticed his good friend Arthur approaching.

"Hi, Arthur."

"Hi, Alan," said Arthur with a slight wave.

To his growing alarm, not one of his friends called him by his nickname for the rest of the school day. As he left the building, he saw the rest of the kids in his class gathered at the bottom of the stairway, as Beat regaled them with stories of England. "...and every morning I could hear the chimes of Big Ben wafting over the Thames River..."

The British girl gestured for him to join them as he descended the stairway, but he kept walking, pretending not to notice her.

* * *

"Muffy called," said Mrs. Powers when her son arrived at home. "Wanted to know if you're going to the party." 

"I'll call her back," said Brain.

"Funny thing," reflected his mother. "She asked for Alan, not Brain."

"You don't know the half of it," Brain grumbled.

"You don't sound very happy," said his concerned mother. "Bad day at school?"

Brain threw up his hands. "Bad? _Bad_? It couldn't be worse!"

"This sounds serious." Mrs. Powers motioned toward the couch. "Let's sit down."

"Mom," said the boy as he seated himself, "I'm no longer The Brain."

"Didn't we go through this same thing a year ago, when you started third grade?"

"This time it's different. I've been outclassed."

"You mean there's someone smarter?"

"Yeah."

"Who is it?"

Brain had to force himself to speak the detested words. "A girl."

Mrs. Powers smiled understandingly. "Are you sure she's smarter than you? Maybe she's just better at some things."

"Mom, she gets questions even I don't get," Brain insisted. "She knows everything about the Civil War, and she's British!"

"British," mused his mother. "I know which girl you're talking about. You know that family that just moved in three blocks from here...the Simons?"

"That's her," Brain affirmed. "Beatrice. And as if it's not bad enough that she's smarter than me, she has to rub it in every chance she gets. She's always showing off. 'Look, Alan, I drew a picture of a fusion reaction! Look, Alan, I got a perfect score!'"

"Maybe she's just proud of her accomplishments."

"No, Mom." Brain lowered his eyes in shame. "She doesn't show off to everyone else, just to me. She's better than me, and she won't let me forget it."

"It's probably nothing personal."

"It's everything personal, Mom!"

"I wouldn't worry about it," said Mrs. Powers dismissively. "Whatever happens, we still love you. Now go and call Muffy back."

A moment later, Brain speed-dialed Muffy's cell phone number and waited for an answer. "Hi, Muffy, it's Brain."

"Oh, hi, Alan," came Muffy's voice. "Is it fast? I'm missing a great story."

"About the party on Friday," Brain inquired. "Who's going to it?"

"Beat and Van aren't coming," Muffy told him. "Everyone else is. What about you?"

"I'll come."

"Great! Talk to you later, Alan." And then Muffy hung up.

* * *

Later that day, Francine and Muffy went to Lackluster Video in search of Mrs. Stiles' movies. As they browsed the Horror section, Muffy asked, "What was the name of that third one again?" 

"'Terror of the Zombies'," answered Francine uncertainly, "or 'Menace of the Zombies', or something like that."

"Let's see." Muffy scanned the titles. "'Zombies From the Deep', 'Zombies From Mars',

'Zombie Disco Fever', 'Walk Like a Zombie'...'Undead Poets Society'? Fern might like that one. 'They Walk by Night'. 'Terror of the Zombie Menace'."

"That's the one," said Francine.

"There are five," Muffy observed. "What's the sequel number?"

"I don't remember."

"Then I'll rent all of them." Muffy pulled five videos from the shelf and dropped them in her shopping bag, which already contained several videos.

"That's everything," said Francine after a final check of the bag, and then the girls started towards the service desk.

"Remember, Francine," said Muffy, "this has to be our little secret. I don't want anyone else to know that I'm renting cheesy horror flicks." No sooner had she spoken those words than she almost collided with Sue Ellen. "D'oh!"

"Hey, girls." Sue Ellen had entered the video store along with Beat and Carla. "We just finished our yoga class and we were on our way to the grocery store when I saw you in here."

"Uh, yeah," said Muffy evasively. "We were just leaving."

Sue Ellen tried to peek into Muffy's bag. "You got 'Fellowship of the Gourd'?"

"No," said Muffy, trying to close up the bag so no one could see inside. "I already own Fellowship. These are, um, the new Princess Peach videos."

"I wish I could go to your party, Muffy," said Beat. "Honestly I do."

"Think nothing of it," said Muffy. "I have parties all the time."

When they arrived at the service desk, the clerk ran the videos from Muffy's bag through the scanner. He placed the five zombie sequels in a separate stack, and handed the three remaining videos to Muffy. "There you go, ma'am. If you want to rent the others, you'll have to come back with your parents. We don't rent R-rated movies to children."

Muffy gasped. She had been so close to getting away...

"R-rated? Let me see those." Carla picked through the stack of zombie sequels. "Oh, Muffy. You can't watch these. You'll have nightmares."

"B-b-but Mrs. Stiles is in them!" Muffy protested. "She was a movie star!"

"I don't believe you," said Beat smugly. "A woman like her would never appear in an exploitation movie."

"But it's true!" Muffy insisted. "She told me so herself! Right, Francine?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Francine, folding her arms.

"Some friend," Muffy grumbled.

Thoroughly embarrassed, she departed the video store zombie-free. Carla and the other girls accompanied her in the direction of the grocery store.

"Since when are you into yoga, Sue Ellen?" she asked her friend.

"Since Carla started taking me to lessons. It's very relaxing."

"I think it's boring," said Beat.

"You girls can stay out here and chat," said Carla when they had reached the store. "I'll do the shopping."

Seated at a round table in front of the store, Muffy, Francine, Sue Ellen, and Beat began to converse about a subject near and dear to the hearts of all girls—boys.

"I want to ask for your help with something," said Beat seriously.

"Tell me your problems," said Muffy. "I'm listening."

Beat spoke hesitantly. "How can I get Alan to like me?"

The other girls fell silent.

"I said, how can I..."

"I heard you," said Muffy. "I'm just a little surprised. I pictured you with Buster."

"I'm not in love with him," said Beat.

"Good," said Muffy. "I charge by the minute for romantic advice."

"Why do you want Alan to like you?" Francine wondered.

"Do you know how long it's been since I met a boy as smart as myself?"

"No."

"Neither do I. I don't think I ever have."

"Alan isn't as smart as you," Francine opinionated. "You're smarter."

"No, I think we're about even."

"I don't think so," Francine insisted. "As far as I'm concerned, you're the new Brain."

"Long live The Brain!" exclaimed Muffy.

"You haven't answered Beat's question," Sue Ellen chimed in.

"What's your opinion?" Beat asked her.

Sue Ellen thought for a moment. "Well, I can tell you what girls in Nigeria do to get boys to like them, but I don't know if it would work here."

* * *

The next day was Wednesday, and the kids were once again assembling in the classroom for the beginning of school. Beat and Sue Ellen sat together again, and Van was listening to more of Beat's stories. "...and in London you can get around in a double-decker bus," she related. "It's like a regular bus, only there are two stories." 

"Cool," said the duck boy. "I wish I could go to London."

"It's a great place to visit, but..." Beat stopped when she noticed Brain entering the room and sitting down at a faraway desk. "Excuse me, Van." She stood quickly, pulled a book from her bag, and walked over to Brain's desk, sporting a smile. "Alan, I've been reading Stephen Ducking's new book, 'A Long-Winded History of the Universe'," she informed him. "Have you read it?"

"I don't feel like talking right now," said Brain crabbily.

"Suit yourself." Disappointed, Beat returned to her desk.

"No change?" asked Sue Ellen.

"None," Beat sighed.

"I've been thinking about this," said her friend. "Maybe my advice isn't as good as Muffy's would be, but I have an idea."

"Let's hear it."

"Up to now you and Alan have only seen each other at school. Maybe if you met him at a social situation where everybody's having fun and not thinking about school..."

"Like a party?"

"Yeah, a party."

"I like that idea."

"Too bad you can't go to Muffy's party on Friday," Sue Ellen lamented.

Beat became thoughtful. "Maybe there is a way."

Mrs. Stiles called the class to order. "It's good to see you all here today. Now before we launch into the Civil War again, are there any questions about anything we covered yesterday?" Muffy raised her hand. "Yes, Muffy?"

"Francine and I watched 'Chicken Fried Love' last night," said the monkey girl. "You were really good in it."

Mrs. Stiles blushed.

"And tonight we're gonna watch 'Death Wore a Derby'," Muffy added.

"She can't rent the zombie movies because she's underage," Francine chimed in.

The other kids started to chuckle as Muffy shot Francine an angry look.

"I'd like to talk to the two of you after class," said the still-flustered teacher. "Are there any other questions?"

When the period was over, Arthur approached Beat outside of the classroom door. "Hey, Beat, I'm having trouble with one of these math problems," he told the girl.

"Why don't you ask Alan for help?" said Beat, motioning to one side. "He's right over there."

"But you're smarter than he is," said Arthur. "What if he gets it wrong?"

As Beat was about to examine the page in the math book which Arthur had turned to, she noticed that Brain appeared visibly shaken. Clearly he had overheard Arthur's expression of non-confidence. "Excuse me," she said to the aardvark boy. Walking towards Brain, she attempted to lift his spirits. "Alan, I'm sure he didn't..."

But Brain simply stormed away without a word.

Fern was the next to speak with the dejected-looking Beat. "Did you bring those pictures of Buckingham Palace?" she asked.

Sighing, the rabbit-aardvark girl pulled the pictures from her bag, handed them to Fern, and walked away.

* * *

"How was school, Beat?" Mrs. Simon asked her daughter after she had returned home. 

"All right, I suppose," the girl muttered.

"You don't sound very sure of yourself," her mother remarked.

"Sounds like boy trouble," said Mr. Simon, lowering his newspaper.

"That sums it up nicely," said Beat somberly.

"Which boy?" asked Mrs. Simon. "That smart boy?"

"He won't even talk to me, Mum," Beat lamented. "All his so-called friends are turning their backs on him, and I think he blames me for it."

"Be patient, dear," said her mother. "American boys can be difficult."

"Dad," Beat addressed her father, "about the Crown City trip this weekend..."

"Hmm?" grunted Mr. Simon, looking up from the paper.

"My schoolmates are having a huge party on Friday night, and I would like it very much if I could go."

"I see," said her father. "You'd rather do that than go to Crown City?"

"I'd like to do both, if possible."

Mr. Simon pondered for a moment. "We'd have to leave very early on Saturday morning, and change our hotel reservation. Plus we'd have to choose between the symphony and the ballet. We wouldn't be able to go to both."

"I like the ballet better," said Beat. "How about it, Dad?"

* * *

Friday night arrived. Muffy, Francine, and Buster were gathered in front of the crib where Muffy's baby brother Tyson lay, making cute baby noises. Francine was playing with Tyson with her one good hand. Muffy was dressed in what appears to be an elven robe; Buster was wearing a wizard's robe and holding a staff. The grandfather clock against the wall showed that it was shortly after 6 p.m. 

"He looks just like you, Muffy," Francine remarked. "I'll be he even has your fashion sense."

"I'm sure he does," said Muffy. "It's a genetic predisposition." She turned to Buster. "How soon is your mom getting married?"

"In six weeks," the rabbit boy replied.

The doorbell rang. "I'd better get that," said Muffy.

She hurried through the living room, where Binky, Sue Ellen, and Fern were enjoying each other's company.. Binky was wearing a ragged outfit and had smeared makeup on his face. Sue Ellen and Fern were wearing elven dresses and tiaras. Muffy opened the front door and greeted Arthur, who wore a helmet, breastplate, and fake sword.

"The Queen of the Elves welcomes you, Lord Arthur!" Muffy proclaimed pompously.

"Hi, Muffy," said Arthur with a smile.

"Please sign the guest book," she instructed him.

While Arthur did so, Sue Ellen came over to him. "Cool costume, Arthur."

"Thanks. Is Beat coming tonight?"

"No, she's on her way to Crown City for the weekend."

As he entered the living room, Arthur spied on a nearby table a fancy-looking porcelain gourd. "Cool," he marveled. "Where'd you get this, Muffy?"

"E-bay."

"One gourd to rule them all," intoned Arthur, lifting the knick-knack into the air.

Then Binky approached him, grabbed the gourd, and tried to wrest it from his grasp. "My precious!" he rasped. "We wants it! Filthy little aardvarkses, you stole it from us!"

"Put that down!" ordered Muffy. "It wasn't cheap!"

The doorbell rang again, and she answered it to find Brain on the doorstep, dressed in street clothes rather than a costume. "The Queen of the Elves welcomes you, Lord Alan! Please sign the guest book." As Brain did so, Francine and Buster returned from playing with Tyson.

"Hey, Alan, how's it going?" Buster welcomed him.

"Fine, fine," said Brain emotionlessly.

"Hey, Sue Ellen, is Beat coming?" asked Buster.

"She's on her way to Crown City," replied the annoyed cat girl. "But if you need help with math, Alan here will be happy to assist you."

"That's okay," said Buster. "I can wait." Brain felt an upsurge of anger when he heard these words, but shrugged it off and went to socialize with his friends.

"Hi, Alan," Francine greeted him. "How does it feel to be an ex-Brain?"

"My joy is inexpressible," said Brain sarcastically.

"Does this mean you'll be bringing back your stand-up comedy routine?" Arthur asked him.

"No, I have other ideas," Brain replied. "I'm thinking of joining AmeriCorps."

The doorbell rang again, and Muffy answered it. To her surprise Beat stood before her, wearing a red dress with the colors of the British flag emblazoned on the front. "Er, the Queen of the Elves welcomes you, Lady Be-a-trice," said Muffy, slightly astonished. "Please sign the guest book."

"I didn't expect to come tonight," said Beat, glancing around the inside of the mansion. "I hope it's all right that I don't have a costume."

"You made it!" exclaimed Sue Ellen in delight when she saw that Beat had arrived.

"Yes, I was able to pull a few strings with my dad," Beat explained. "But I can't stay for the whole movie. I have to wake up early in the morning." Walking over to the startled Brain, she smiled and said, "Hi, Alan."

"Uh, Arthur," said Brain, "I just remembered that I have to finish some homework."

"You?" Arthur peered at him incredulously.

"You never have unfinished homework," Francine remarked. "What did you do, ask Mrs. Stiles for a second helping?"

"I think you're just trying to avoid Beat," Arthur scolded the bear boy.

"So what?" Brain blurted out. "It's a free country. I can leave whenever I want."

Leaving Arthur and Francine shocked by his outburst, Brain turned and started toward the front door. Beat followed after him, pleading, "Alan, please listen to me!"

"I can't hear you," mocked Brain, clutching his ears. "Lalalalala..."

But when he reached the door, he found an unexpected obstacle in his path—an angry-looking Sue Ellen. The girl took a deep breath, and the house seemed to tremble at the sound of her voice.

"YOU...SHALL NOT...PASS!"

The room fell silent, everyone wondering what would transpire next. At first Brain felt a twinge of fear, but then his resolve strengthened.

"Beat has something to tell you," said Sue Ellen threateningly. "Turn around and listen to her, or I'll turn you around myself."

Brain didn't move. "You'd better do what she says, Alan," Binky called to him. "She's got fists of death."

Several more stone-silent moments passed, then Brain finally relented and turned around to face Beat.

The rabbit-aardvark opened her mouth to speak. "When I was growing up in London, all the other kids called me The Brain. It wasn't long before I figured out what that means."

"What does it mean?" asked Brain skeptically.

"It means all they want from you is help with their homework. And as soon as someone smarter comes along, they abandon you. That's what's happening here. I'm not trying to take away your friends, Alan."

"Beat's right," Muffy acknowledged.

"You're still our friend, Alan," said Francine, "even if we don't come to you for help with our homework as much as we used to."

"Why do you show off all the time?" Brain demanded. "Why do you have to constantly remind me that you're smarter than I am?"

"I don't consider myself smarter than you," was Beat's reply. "And I don't show off."

"Then what do you call it?"

Beat thought for a second. "All right, I take that back. I do show off. But I don't do it to belittle you, or make myself look superior."

"Then why?"

The kids listened breathlessly as Beat formed her response.

"Because I wanted you to like me."

Brain's jaw dropped.

"I figured if you saw how intelligent I am, and how much we have in common, then you would want to talk to me, and be my friend, and...and like me. You're the smartest boy I've ever met, Alan."

"I didn't know you felt that way," said Brain, lowering his eyes. "All along I thought you were trying to rub it in my face that you're smarter than me, and you're a...a..."

"A girl?"

"Yeah."

Beat shrugged. "We can't all be boys, Alan. I'm sorry."

After Brain and Beat had gazed wordlessly at each other for a few seconds, Sue Ellen stepped between them. "Anything else to say?" she asked Brain.

"Yeah." The boy smiled. "Start the movie!"

As the kids cheered, Beat leaned over and kissed Brain on the cheek.

TBC


	2. A Spectre Named Crosswire

(Author's note: From this chapter forward, The Brain will be called by his real name, Alan.)

On the Monday after Arthur's first day of fourth grade. Mrs. Read was driving D.W. to her first day of kindergarten. "I met your teacher last Friday," she said to her little daughter. "Her name's Miss Cosma. She seems very nice. She's from Romania."

"Where's Romania?" asked D.W.

"It's a country in eastern Europe."

"Where's Europe?" asked the flustered girl. "Mom, I can barely read. You're gonna have to help me a little with the geometry."

"That's geography, D.W."

"Geology. Whatever."

A block away, Mrs. Read saw a car that had pulled over to the side of the street. Steam poured out of its opened hood. A rabbit man was leaning over the engine, while an aardvark woman and a little girl stood nearby. "That doesn't look good," she remarked. "We've got a few minutes, we can help them out."

Mrs. Read pulled over next to the other car. "Can I get out, Mom?" D.W. asked her.

"Sure."

The family with the stalled car turned out to be the Simons-Roger, the university professor; Penny, the fantasy novelist; and their brainy daughter, Beat.

"Bad car day?" Mrs. Read quipped.

"Tell me about it," grumbled Mr. Simon. "Blasted American cars! And we've only had it two weeks."

"You're British?"

"Why, yes." The rabbit man shook hands with Mrs. Read. "Roger Simon. I'm a professor at the university."

"A professor?" Mrs. Read marveled. "How exciting!"

"Well, it's not as romantic as it's cracked up to be. This is my wife, Penny."

"A pleasure," said the aardvark woman.

"And I'm Beat," the part-rabbit, part-aardvark girl introduced herself.

"Then why don't you sit down and rest?" D.W. asked her.

Beat chuckled. "No, you silly goose. Beat's my name. It's short for Beatrice."

"It's nice to meet you all," said Mrs. Read. "I'm Jane Read, and this is my daughter, D.W."

"What does that stand for?" Beat inquired.

"I don't like to talk about it," said D.W. darkly.

"Why not?"

"'Cause my mom only calls me that when she's about to punish me."

Beat giggled. "Oh, you're so funny!"

"My brother Arthur was talking about somebody named Beat," D.W. recalled.

"Arthur's your brother? Arthur Read?"

"Yeah. Would you like to buy him?"

"Arthur's in my class!" Beat exclaimed.

"He is? Really?"

"Yes, really. You lucky little girl, to have an older brother like him."

"Where did you get the car?" Mrs. Read asked Beat's parents.

"Crosswire's," replied Mrs. Simon.

"And as soon as the tow arrives, we're taking it back there for a refund," Mr. Simon declared.

"You're not alone," Mrs. Read told them. "There's a whole club of people in Elwood City who have had Crosswire cars die on them."

"Is that so?" Mr. Simon mused.

"Uh-huh. Since you've already called for a tow, I guess D.W. and I will be on our way." Mrs. Read reached into her purse. "Here's my card."

Mr. Simon scanned the card curiously. "Tax accountant, eh?"

"That's right."

"If you can understand American tax laws, then you must be more than human," Mr. Simon remarked before handing her a card of his own. "Thanks so much for stopping."

A short while later D.W. and her mother arrived at the kindergarten, and Mrs. Read walked D.W. to the door. "Remember," she advised, "if you need anything, ask Miss Cosma to call me."

"Okay, Mom," said D.W.

As she entered the building she saw Miss Cosma, a young chipmunk-like woman, at the center of the classroom, surrounded by the other children in her kindergarten class-Emily, Vicita, the Tibble twins Tommy and Timmy, and Van Cooper's younger brother, Dallin.

"Look! It's D.W.!" exclaimed Emily.

"You're late," said Tommy.

"We ate all the food," joked Timmy.

"Come in, please," said Miss Cosma. Her voice betrayed a mild Romanian accent, the sort that has come to be identified with Bela Lugosi and Count Dracula.

"Are you Miss Cosmos?" asked D.W. as she timidly joined the other children.

"Oh, no," replied the teacher. "I'm not even Miss America." She laughed heartily. "I'm Miss Cosma, and you must be Dora Read."

"Please call me D.W.," the little girl requested as she sat next to Dallin the duck boy.

"Hey, D.W.," said Tommy mockingly, "should we get another chair for Nadine?"

"No," she said proudly. "I gave up Nadine a long time ago."

Begin D.W. flashback sequence.

In the midst of a heavy rainstorm, Mrs. Read was about to start the motor of her car. Suddenly she heard a sound; when she turned her head, she saw a thoroughly drenched D.W. pounding with her fists on the car window.

As she rolled down the window she heard her daughter shouting, "Mom! Mom! She has a tail! She can't be real!"

End D.W. flashback sequence.

"I'm sorry I'm late," said D.W.. "My mom stopped to help some people with a dead car. It had crossed wires."

"That's okay, D.W.," said Miss Cosma. "Now let's get started. Does everybody know the alphabet song? A, B, C, D, E, F, G..."

"I can sing louder than you can," Tommy told Timmy.

"No, you can't," Timmy countered.

* * *

After the first day of kindergarten, D.W.'s classmates gathered at her house to play Tower of Cows. "...and then we sang a song about different animals," D.W. recounted to her mother, "and Miss Cosma showed us pictures of the animals, and there were lions, and elephants, and zebras."

"It sounds like you had a lovely day," said Mrs. Read, smiling.

"But she didn't sing the Mary Moo Cow song," D.W. complained.

"I don't think she knows that one," said Vicita.

"I think she's a vampire," said Dallin.

"Why do you say that?" asked Mrs. Read.

"'Cause she talks like Count Dracula, and she's got real big teeth. I think she uses them to suck blood."

Begin Dallin fantasy sequence.

Dallin and the other children were playing in the kindergarten room when Miss Cosma suddenly appeared before them, wearing a ragged robe and cape. She raised her arms and hissed in a vampire-like fashion, causing the children to scream with terror.

Then she stepped backwards. "No!" she cried. "I must not hurt the children! Reaching into her robe, she pulled out a sugar beet and sank her fangs into it, sucking out the red juice in a ravenous manner.

End Dallin fantasy sequence.

"There's no such things as vampires, Dallin," said Emily.

"Yeah," said D.W. "They're just pigments of your imagination."

"Like Nadine," added Tommy.

The phone rang, and Mrs. Read answered it. The voice of Roger Simon came over the line. "Jane, I wonder if I could ask you for a favor."

"Name it."

"You told me that there are other Elwood City residents who bought defective cars from Ed Crosswire."

"Yes, there are."

"I would greatly appreciate it if you could provide me with a list of the names and numbers of those people."

Surprise and concern tinged Mrs. Read's voice. "Er, yes, I can make a list. It may take me a little time, though."

"I'll even pay you for your trouble. Also, if you could recommend a good lawyer who lives in this area..."

"A lawyer?" Mrs. Read pondered for amoment. "Well, when I need legal advice I go to Mel Cooper. He's one of the best in the city."

"Thank you, Jane," said Mr. Simon.

Mrs. Read turned to Dallin after hanging up. "Hey, Dallin, I just referred another client to your dad."

"What do you want, a commission?" replied the duck boy.

* * *

The next day was a Tuesday. At the Lakewood Elementary cafeteria, Arthur, Buster, Alan, Francine, and Muffy sat together in the cafeteria, enjoying their meals.

"Muffy, I'm sure that was the best party we've ever had at your place," Arthur remarked.

"With the possible exception of the one where you spilled the spinach dip all over your dress," added Alan.

"And the stain still hasn't come out," Muffy mourned. "I really need to consider choosing a new dry cleaner."

"So, Alan, how long until the next "Ring of the Gourds" movie comes out?" asked Buster.

Alan glanced at his watch. "Three months, six days, eleven hours, and thirty-four seconds."

"But the best thing about that party is, Alan and Beat don't hate each other anymore," said Francine.

"I never hated Alan," said Beat as she arrived at their table with her lunch tray.

"At the very least we get along now," said Alan.

"Arthur, I can't get over how cute your sister is!" Beat gushed as she sat down.

"Which sister? The little baby, or the big baby?"

Beat chuckled. "Oh, come now. What does D.W. stand for, anyway?"

"Over the years it's stood for a lot of things," said Arthur. "Dimwit, Disaster Warning, Dough White, Dog Warts... It even stood for Dora Winifred at one time."

"Dora Winifred," Beat mused. "How charming."

"When did you meet D.W.?" Muffy asked Beat.

"Actually, your father had a hand in our meeting," Beat replied.

"What do you mean?"

"My dad bought a used car from him. One with the steering wheel on the left side. Yesterday morning the engine failed, and Arthur's mum and D.W. stopped to help."

"Did you take it back?" asked Muffy. "You can get a refund, you know."

"I know that," said Beat with a hint of arrogance. "But apparently, your father's goons don't."

Muffy gasped. "Goons?"

"They refused to refund a penny of the purchase price," Beat went on, "even though right was clearly on my father's side."

Muffy laid down her fork and stood up. "Beat, follow me."

Surprised, the rabbit-aardvark girl rose and followed Muffy to a quiet corner of the cafeteria.

"Let's get one thing straight," said Muffy once they arrived. "My father is a respectable businessman. He wouldn't cheat his worst enemy. His employees are not goons, and if they declined to give your dad a refund, they must have had a good reason."

"They did have a good reason," said Beat. " They knowingly sold my dad a piece of junk."

"Junk?" Muffy's indignation grew. "My dad does not sell junk!"

"I know this is hard for you to accept, since you're his daughter," said Beat calmly. "But Ed Crosswire is not an honest man."

Muffy's eyes flashed fire. "Take back what you just said," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"It's the truth," Beat insisted, "and I won't take it back."

On the other end of the cafeteria, Mr. Ratburn was conversing with Mrs. McGrady, who stood at her usual post behind the lunch counter. "This year's third-graders don't seem as motivated as last year's," he reflected. "Maybe word's gotten out that I've gone soft." Hearing an unpleasant sound of shouting and arguing, he quickly turned his head. "What the..."

A shocking tableau unfolded before him. Muffy and Beat were rolling on the floor, trading punches and cursing each other, as the other kids watched from a safe distance.

"Take it back!" shrieked Muffy.

"Not on your life!" yelled Beat.

Hurrying to the scene, Ratburn reached out and separated the fighting girls. "Shame on the two of you," he chided them. "You should know better than to fight at school. Why, it's Muffy Crosswire! And...I don't know you."

"Beat Simon, sir," the bedraggled Beat introduced herself.

"She started it!" complained Muffy, her braids askew. "She called my father a liar!"

"She started it!" Beat retorted. "Her father IS a liar!"

"I don't care who started it," said Ratburn firmly. "You two are going to the principal's office, pronto."

The rat man wrapped his right hand around Beat's left rabbit ear, and-with a little extra effort-grabbed Muffy by the ear as well. As he marched the two girls toward the principal's office, Muffy looked down and noticed that unpleasant stains were covering her dress. "Food scraps!" she wailed. "Vomitrocious!"

* * *

Melvin B. Cooper, Attorney at Law, was one of the most talented and respected lawyers in Elwood City. Having learned of his reputation, Roger Simon wasted no time in seeking him out. Cooper's receptionist, an attractive young cat girl, greeted him as he charged into the office. "Good afternoon, how may I..." But Mr. Simon ignored her and walked directly into the room where Cooper was engaged in a phone conversation. 

"I'll pay off the account as soon as I can," the duck man was saying, "but, as you know, my son's medical bills are piling up, and that comes first." It was then that he noticed Mr.

Simon standing in front of his desk. "Can I call you back? I have some business to attend to." Hanging up the phone, he addressed the impatient-looking rabbit man. "You bypassed my receptionist. I like that."

"A spectre is haunting Elwood City," announced Mr. Simon without a moment's hesitation. "A spectre named Crosswire."

Mr. Cooper's face lit up with intrigue. "Ah, yes. Crosswire. The man has made many enemies, but none with enough backbone to bring a suit against him. Do you want to be the first?"

"Indeed I do," said Mr. Simon fearlessly.

"You're British," Mr. Cooper remarked. "I've always admired the British. They have such a strong sense of justice and fairness."

"I have a list of twelve local residents who have been cheated by Crosswire. Possibly more to come. And I've had my own bitter experience at his hand. His warranty is so full of holes that he could drive the lot of his cars through it. Men like him shouldn't be allowed to sell cars, and I intend to see to it that he no longer does."

The lawyer smiled a wide duck smile. "In that case, I'm your man."

"I couldn't help but overhear you mention your son's medical bills," said Mr. Simon. "Is your son's name Van, by any chance?"

"It is," replied Mr. Cooper. "You know him?"

"He goes to school with my daughter."

Mr. Cooper's tone became serious. "I originally became a lawyer because I thought I could make good money," he admitted. "But two years ago, Van was run over by a careless driver. Paralyzed from the waist down, and liver damage to boot. Everything I do now is for him. But let's get down to business. How are your own finances?"

"Solvent enough."

"Crosswire's not an easy target," said Mr. Cooper. "It won't be cheap."

"I'll pay the price," said Mr. Simon. "I fought men like him in London, and I'll fight them here."

Mr. Cooper drummed his fingers together. "Eeeexcellent."

* * *

After arranging affairs with his new client, Mr. Cooper came home from his office to reunite with his wife, Valerie, and his six children. These included one-year-old baby Megan, five-year-old Dallin (D.W.'s kindergarten-mate), nine-year-old Van (Arthur's classmate), twelve-year-old Odette, fourteen-year-old Logan, and seventeen-year-old Quinn. While Logan aspired to become a rock star, Quinn aimed to follow in her father's footsteps by going to law school.

The oddest member of the family by far was Odette, owing to the fact that she was a swan, not a duck. She had been born a swan to duck parents, and no one, not even the doctors, knew why. Like any swan, she was attracted to graceful movements, which led her to take up ballet at an early age.

In their shared bedroom, Van and Logan were holding a jam session. Van played a few measures from Paganini's Caprice in A Minor on his violin, and then Logan, dressed in the latest grunge fashion, played the same measures on his electric guitar. "Dude!" Logan enthused. "Rock and classical are, like, so made for each other."

"Dude!" said Van.

In the room that Odette and Quinn share, Odette was dancing gracefully to the strains of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. On her wall were fastened posters of famous ballet dancers like Nureyev and Baryshnikov.

Dallin was in the living room watching TV. Quinn was sitting in the study, reading Gibbon's "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire". Mrs. Cooper was putting dinner on the table, and Megan was in her high chair, whining with hunger.

"Honey, I'm home," called Mr. Cooper as he stepped through the front door.

"Just in time for dinner," his wife responded.

As the kids started to gather around the dinner table, Mr. Cooper asked his youngest son, "Dallin, how was kindergarten today?"

"Wery good!" answered Dallin, speaking with a Romanian accent similar to Miss Cosma's.

"Why are you talking like that?" asked his father.

"Because Miss Cosma turned me into a wampire!"

"Oh, that's funny," said Mrs. Cooper, chuckling.

"Watch out, Odette," said Logan to his sister as they took their seats. "She's coming after your neck first!"

Van, the last to arrive, parked his wheelchair at the end of the table.

"Dad, I'm having a really hard time choosing between Harvard and Princeton," said Quinn as she pored over a college brochure.

"They're both good law schools," said Mr. Cooper.

"Just wait until you get scholarships, then choose the one that's more expensive," Van suggested. "That's what I would do."

"Smart boy," said his father.

"I'll just have a little rice," said Odette. "I'm not very hungry."

"That's because for you, a little food goes a long way!" joked Logan, gesturing at the swan girl's neck.

"Hmph!" Odette grunted haughtily. "You're just jealous because my long neck gives me exceptional balance."

"I wish I could dance," said Van.

"Anything new at the office, honey?" asked Mrs. Cooper.

"Oh, yes," said her husband. "New client. Wants to sue Crosswire."

"Is he insane?"

"I hope so," said Mr. Cooper. "A sane man wouldn't attempt it. I swear, I'd like nothing better than to bring that big ape down."

"Quiet, everyone," said Mrs. Cooper "Van, say grace."

Van bowed his head. "For what we are about to receive, O Lord, we give thanks. We pray for brotherly love and peace on earth. Please protect our troops in Karjakistan and bring them home safely. Amen."

* * *

The next morning was Wednesday. As Miss Cosma taught her kindergarten charges, her voice began to sound raspy. "Vicita, can you find Elwood City on the map?" she asked the little Ecuadorian girl. 

"I dunno," Vicita replied. "What state's it in?"

"Why do you sound funny?" D.W. asked the teacher.

"Because I'm from Romania," Miss Cosma answered.

"You sound like you're sick," said D.W.

"I'm all right," said Miss Cosma. "I'm just losing my voice. That's why I'm not talking much. I'm afraid by the end of the day I won't be able to talk at all."

"Losing your voice?" D.W. started to feel anxious.

"Yeah, don't you know about that?" said Timmy. "You only have so much voice inside of you, and when you use it up you can't talk anymore." He and Tommy chuckled.

Begin D.W. fantasy sequence.

"Mom!" groused D.W. as she and her brother quarreled at home. "Arthur looked at me funny!"

"No, I didn't!" Arthur protested.

"Mom!" D.W. whined. "Arthur's ugly! And his teeth are crooked! And his glasses are crooked! And he ties his shoes too tight! And he..."

Suddenly D.W. found that no matter how loud she shouted, no sound came from her mouth. She panicked clutched her throat.

"Mom!" called Arthur. "I think D.W. just ran out of voice!"

"I was wondering why it got so quiet," remarked Mrs. Read as she entered the room.

D.W. screamed and yelled with all her might, but could not make a sound.

"Well, D.W., that's what you get for talking so much," said Arthur. "Now you'll never talk again."

"You'll have to learn sign language," Mrs. Read added.

End D.W. fantasy sequence.

"How about you, D.W.? Can you find Elwood City on the map?"

D.W. turned her head to look at Miss Cosma, but didn't say a word.

* * *

At about the same time, first period was drawing to a close in Arthur's fourth grade class. Mrs. Stiles, who appeared a bit pale, had written the name Voltaire on the board. "Tomorrow we'll talk about a man named Voltaire," she announced. "Does anyone here know who Voltaire was?"

Binky raised his hand. "Yes, Binky?"

"Wasn't he the guy who invented electricity?"

The boy's response elicited laughter from the other kids. "No, I'm sorry," said the teacher.

Beat raised her hand. "He was a French philosopher."

As the other kids regarded her in amazement, she grinned sheepishly. "That's all I know about him. Honest."

"That's right, Beatrice," said Mrs. Stiles. "Voltaire wrote a book called 'Candide', in which he asked the question, 'Is this the best of all possible worlds?' If you make one thing better about the world, would that make other things worse? For next Monday I want you all to write a two-page paper about whether you think this is the best of all possible worlds, and why. Class dismissed."

As the kids wandered out of the classroom, Beat and Muffy exchanged dirty looks.

Fern, in the meantime, remained behind to inform Mrs. Stiles that she had written another poem. "You can read it to me after school," the teacher suggested.

"You look pale," Fern noted. "Are you feeling all right?"

"It's just something I always get this time of year," Mrs. Stiles replied. "Nothing to worry about."

Sue Ellen caught up with Beat in the hallway. "Want to come to my place after school?" she offered. "Carla's making chile rellenos."

"Will Muffy be there?" Beat inquired.

"If she wants to be."

"In that case, no."

Sue Ellen was taken back by the British girl's callousness. "I think you should just apologize to her and forget the whole thing," she recommended.

"There's nothing to apologize for," was Beat's response. "I can't help it if she insists on looking at her father through rose-colored glasses."

Seeing she would get nowhere with Beat, Sue Ellen made her way to the girls' washroom and found Muffy about to enter. "Do you want to come to my place after school?" she invited the girl. "Carla's making chile rellenos, and she's a great cook."

"Will Beat be there?" Muffy asked.

Sue Ellen sighed. "Never mind."

In another hallway, Binky was complaining to Van about the difficulty of their newest assignment. "She's worse than Ratburn. I mean, how should I know if this is the best of all possible worlds? Even if I did know, why should I have to prove it?"

"I think a world where I'm not crippled would be better than this one," Van remarked.

"That's a good beginning," said Binky. "Just two pages to go."

Van grinned facetiously.

"Remember what she said?" Binky reflected. "You can make some things better about the world, but that might make other things worse. For example, if you were a normal kid, would you have as many friends as you have now?"

"Yes," Van replied glibly.

The same question consumed the attention of Arthur, Buster, and Alan as they ate lunch in the cafeteria. "What do you think, guys?" Arthur asked his friends. "Is this the best of all possible worlds?"

"I'm still trying to decide if the question is well-posed," said Alan.

"I think a world without any wars would be better than this one," Buster opinionated.

"But even if nobody died from wars," Alan pointed out, "people would still die from disease, starvation, and natural disasters."

"Okay, a world without wars, disease, starvation, or natural disasters," Buster proposed.

"But without all those things, there would be overpopulation," said Alan. "We'd all end up having to live in huge, crowded apartment buildings."

"But by that time we'll have spaceships, and we'll live on other planets."

"I should be writing all of this down," said Arthur.

As he reached into his bag for a notebook, Muffy strolled past their table with a lunch tray. "You guys seen Beat anywhere?" she asked the boys.

"Nope," said Alan.

"Good," said Muffy, taking a seat.

"How long do you plan on staying mad at Beat?" Arthur asked the girl.

"Until she apologizes for insulting the Crosswire family honor," Muffy vowed.

"I hate having to tell you this," said Alan seriously, "but there are a lot of people in Elwood City who don't trust your father."

Muffy gasped. "Who are they? I want names, Alan!"

As the school day neared its end, the fourth-graders were engrossed in Mrs. Stiles' retelling of an ancient Greek legend. "But as Orpheus was ascending from the underworld, he looked behind him to see if Eurydice was really there. When he did, she disappeared and returned to the land of the dead, forever. Orpheus was so grief-stricken that he spent the rest of his days playing mournful songs on his lyre." Emotion overwhelmed her voice as she told the story.

As soon as the final bell rang, she said, "Muffy, Beatrice, be back here in ten minutes."

Once all of the students had left the classroom except for Fern, the poodle girl asked her teacher, "How much detention did they get?"

"Three days," Mrs. Stiles answered.

"My poetry's getting better," Fern said as she pulled a sheet from her bag. Your advice is so helpful. This is one I wrote yesterday."

"I hope it's a happy one. Telling the Orpheus story took a lot out of me."

"No, this is a tragic one. I'm sorry."

Mrs. Stiles sat down at her desk, as if bracing herself for what was to come. "What the heck. Read it."

Fern began to recite:

"Twisting the winds blow through the hole in my heart.

The ships, anchorless, heaving against the shoals,

Hapless sailors crying in vain for comfort.

The black sky answers wrathfully, as if roused too early from slumber."

She stopped when she noticed that Mrs. Stiles was crying.

"Keep going," urged the polar bear woman as tears moistened her cheeks. "It's good."

"You don't sound well," Fern observed. "I think I should stop."

"I'll be fine," the teacher insisted, "as soon as I get home and take some medicine."

Fern handed her the paper. "Here, you can read the rest yourself."

Gathered in front of the school were Arthur, Buster, Sue Ellen, Francine, and Alan, eager to visit Carla's place and enjoy her Latin American cooking. "Beat and Muffy still hate each other, so I guess it's just us," Sue Ellen observed. "Where's Fern?"

"I think she and Mrs. Stiles are still reading poems," said Alan.

"Teacher's got a pet, teacher's got a pet..." Francine chanted mockingly.

She quickly silenced herself when Fern approached them from the entrance. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she said eagerly.

"Sorry's not good enough," Francine scolded her. "I'm afraid I'll have to revoke your poetic license."

"No, please!" Fern joked. "I just renewed it!"

"You'll never write poetry in this town again!" Francine threatened.

The kids laughed and joked as they walked toward Sue Ellen's house.

"The other day I pulled up some of my old poems on the computer and read them," Fern related. "They're so lame compared to the ones I'm writing now. Mrs. Stiles is the best poetry coach in the world."

"I'm a poet too," said Francine. "A cat sat on a mat."

Fern chuckled playfully. "It was wearing a hat."

"A cat in a hat on a mat," said Arthur.

"What do you think of that?" added Buster.

"Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!" Fern chimed in.

"My dad's a diplomat," Sue Ellen contributed.

"My little sister's a brat," was Arthur's next line.

"I fell off a horse and went splat!" exclaimed Francine, and her friends laughed uproariously.

"What we need now is a rap beat," Alan suggested.

"I have a mile-long rap sheet," Fern rhymed.

"What have I started?" Francine lamented.

"This is so retarded," Sue Ellen remarked.

Buster plugged his nose. "Hey, who..."

"No, Buster," Arthur silenced him.

* * *

Carla's reputation as a preparer of chile rellenos proved to be well-founded, and the kids enjoyed her stories of life in Costa Rica. "I started learning English when I was eight," Sue Ellen's nanny recounted. "I couldn't get enough of it. By the time I was sixteen I had read all of Shakespeare's plays. I also read Milton, Chaucer, and Marlowe."

"Where did you find all those books?" Alan asked her.

"San Jose has some English bookstores, and there was also the embassy library. That's where I met Sue Ellen's father. He's an amazing man. He speaks eight languages fluently. He got his degree here, you know."

"I miss my dad," said Sue Ellen forlornly.

"I'm sure he misses you, too," said Carla.

Sue Ellen's tone became bitter. "They just left me here and took off. It's like I'm their cat, or something."

The other kids fell silent.

"Okay, I'm done whining."

After the meal and visit was over, Carla bid farewell to her young friends. "Hasta la vista," she called to them as they left.

"Hasta la pasta, baby!" said Buster, waving back to her.

"So what do we do now?" Alan wondered as the gang wandered along the street.

"Frisbee," said Francine. "That's not a suggestion. We are going to play Frisbee."

"You've gotten really good at it," Sue Ellen remarked.

"It's the only sport I can play with one hand," Francine boasted. "I can even catch it in my mouth now."

They reflected on Carla's fascinating presentations as they walked in the direction of the park. "Your nanny is the coolest," Francine told Sue Ellen. "She almost makes me want to spend some time away from my parents."

"Her command of the English language is astonishing for a non-native," Alan commented.

"And look at all the books she's read," Francine marveled. "I'll bet even Mr. Ratburn hasn't read that many..."

It was unusual for Francine to stop talking at all, let alone in mid-sentence. Noticing her sudden silence, her friends turned their heads to discover that a wicked grin had spread over the girl's face.

"Uh-oh," said Buster eagerly. "Francine's got a crazy idea. Or gas."

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Alan inquired.

Francine's reply was almost a squeal of delight. "Carla...and Mr. Ratburn!"

Sue Ellen shook her head insistently. "No, Francine. No, no, no."

Begin Sue Ellen fantasy sequence.

"And now, the final episode of 'Who Wants to Marry a Third-Grade Teacher!' announced the host of the newest reality TV show. "Our third-grade teacher, Nigel Ratburn, has narrowed down the contestants to three finalists."

The three—Carla Fuente, Bitzi Baxter, and Paige Turner—were standing in lighted booths, as Mr. Ratburn scrutinized them from a nearby chair.

"In booth number one, a nanny from Costa Rica, who likes English literature, Ethiopian cuisine, and poetry slams. Carla Fuente!"

The sound of applause was heard.

"In booth number two, a newspaper reporter from Elwood City, who likes to spend time with her nine-year-old son. Bitzi Baxter!"

More applause.

"In booth number three, a librarian from Elwood City, who likes it when children return their books by the due date. Paige Turner!"

The applause continued.

"Nigel Ratburn is preparing the final report cards..."

"I'll start with Carla," said Ratburn. "She's very literate and a good cook, but I find the clientele at poetry slams to be much too radical for my taste, and chile rellenos give me heartburn. I give her a B minus."

The lights went in Carla's booth.

"Moving on to Bitzi...what kind of a name is Bitzi, anyway? Not to mention Buster. They sound like they could be related to Bugs Bunny. And Buster probably thinks I'm an alien. I give her a C."

Bitzi's booth went dark.

"Finally, Paige. To be honest, I'm afraid she'll use the crank on me. I give her a C minus."

Paige was plunged into darkness.

"Well, that eliminates all of them," said Ratburn with finality. "It looks like we'll have to renew the show for another long, lonely season. Curtain..."

End Sue Ellen fantasy sequence.

"B minus?" protested Francine. "You don't give her enough credit."

"Forget it," Sue Ellen insisted. "There's not a woman alive who could live up to Mr. Ratburn's standards. There's a reason he's still single."

"If he marries your nanny, that'll make him your billy," Buster joked.

"Arthur, Mr. Ratburn's stayed at your place before," Francine plotted. "If you invited him to dinner, then we just happened to drop by with Carla..."

"It sounds like one of Muffy's grandiose schemes," Alan remarked.

"Excuse me," said Arthur, "but aren't we a little young to be matchmaking?"

Francine made a dazed face. "Whoa! That was weird! For a minute I thought an aardvark was talking to me, but I'm all right now."

"I think it's a great idea," said Fern.

"I second that," Alan added.

"I third it," said Buster.

"It's crazy," said Arthur. "But what can go wrong?"

"A lot," Sue Ellen warned.

"Come on, Sue," Francine pressed her. "You want it as much as I do. For all you know, Carla and Mr. Ratburn are destined by fate to be together."

"Perhaps all of our actions and decisions are determined by fate," Alan mused, "and what we call free will is simply..."

"Zip it, Alan," Francine silenced the boy.

After a moment or two of hesitation, Sue Ellen nodded. "Okay, I'm in. But don't blame me if this ends in disaster."

* * *

Returning from the park after a game of Frisbee, Arthur found his parents and D.W. busy in the kitchen. "Your dinner's waiting on the stove," his mother informed him.

"I've already eaten. Dad, have you ever made chile rellenos?"

"Once," said Mr. Read. "They gave me heartburn."

"I just had a great idea," said Arthur as he seated himself at the table. "I think we should invite Mr. Ratburn to dinner."

"Why Mr. Ratburn?" asked his father. "He isn't your teacher anymore."

"Yeah." Arthur weighted his words carefully. "But he's a nice man, and he hasn't visited us since the blizzard, and he lives all by himself, and he could use the company."

"That's very considerate of you," said Mrs. Read. "Let's do it, Dave."

"How about Saturday?" Arthur suggested.

"I'm catering a party on Saturday," said his father, "but you can have him over if you want."

"Thanks, Mom and Dad." Arthur's relief was short-lived, as he noticed something odd about his environs. "It seems awful quiet in here."

D.W. shot him an annoyed look from the kitchen floor.

Arthur looked around thoughtfully. "TV's off...Pal's outside...no, it's something else."

"It's D.W.," said Mrs. Read. "She hasn't said a word since we picked her up from kindergarten."

Arthur nearly fell over in his chair. Was it possible? Had D.W. become quiet?

"Maybe Miss Cosma started quiet time and forgot to stop it," his mother theorized.

"Or maybe her class is really some kind of weird religious cult," Arthur postulated.

Begin Arthur fantasy sequence.

In Miss Cosma's kindergarten/monastery, she and the children dressed up in brown robes and burned incense in preparation for the day's meditation. "D.W., come forth," the teacher/guru called out, and the aardvark girl approached.

"D.W., in order to achieve the seventh level of awareness and enter the path to unlimited power, you must make the following vows. One, you must not speak a word to anyone for the next three months. Two, you must obey your brother Arthur at all times. Three, you must give up all physical possessions, or at least everything that has to do with either Mary Moo Cow or Crazy Bus."

End Arthur fantasy sequence.

"Now that would be the best of all possible worlds," the boy mused.

Gesturing toward the TV, D.W. made a square shape with her fingers. "Yes, you can watch TV," said her mother.

To Arthur's chagrin, D.W. hurried to the couch and turned on her new favorite show, Pony Tales. "Pony Tales, Pony Tales, it's almost time for Pony Tales..." sang the TV voices.

Deciding to take advantage of D.W.'s apparent oath of silence, Arthur took a seat next to her on the couch, and then snatched the remote from her hands. Although visibly upset, D.W. remained speechless. "I just remembered," said her older brother. "The first episode of the second season of Bunny League is on now."

"In the shocking cliffhanger ending of the first season, the evil Captain Chaos blew up the Earth, leaving the Bunny League stranded on their space station!"

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Bionic Bunny in horror. "Earth has been destroyed! We have failed!"

"There's still hope," said Dark Bunny as he gazed through the station's window at the ruined planet. "When I was fighting with Chaos, I managed to rip off the time travel bracelet he used to come here from the future."

"But the bracelet will only go backwards in time," Martian Bunny pointed out. "Whoever uses it will be trapped in the past."

"One of us must make the sacrifice," said Amazon Bunny. "Otherwise we'll have no choice but to repopulate the human race by ourselves."

"Which wouldn't take long," Green Bunny noted, "since we are, after all, rabbits."

Meanwhile, Fast Bunny flirted with the shapely but disinterested Hawk Bunny. "So, wanna do some repopulating?"

"If I kill you," said Hawk Bunny menacingly, "there'll still be two men for every woman."

So engrossed was Arthur in the program that he didn't notice D.W. going into the kitchen to complain to her mother.

"Arthur?" said Mrs. Read as D.W. put her fingers around her eyes to simulate glasses. "What did he do? How can I understand you if you won't talk?"

D.W. pretended to push a button on a remote control. "Oh, Arthur took the remote away from you." The little girl nodded. "I'll ask him to give it back, but first, why don't you tell me why you're not talking?"

The flustered D.W. still refused to speak.

"That's it," Mrs. Read resolved. "I'm calling your teacher."

She hurried to the phone. "Hello, Miss Cosma? Did you notice anything unusual about D.W. today? Oh, she wouldn't? She's not talking to us, either. Do you have any idea what might have caused this? Okay." Passing the phone to her daughter, she said, "Miss Cosma wants to talk to you."

Looking surprised, D.W. pressed the receiver to her ear. "Hi, D.W., how are you?" came the familiar Romanian-tinged voice.

"You can still talk?" D.W. blurted out.

"Of course I can. I had a throat infection, but I took some medicine and now I'm getting better."

"You mean you didn't run out of voice?"

"Run out of voice? What do you mean? You never run out of voice. Sometimes you lose your voice, but it comes back. Haven't you ever had laryngitis before?"

"Come to think of it, yes," said D.W. thoughtfully.

Then the truth of the situation dawned upon her. She clenched her tiny fists. "Those Tibbles..." She hung up without another word.

"Tommy and Timmy strike again, eh?" said Mr. Read to his wife.

"They lied to me," D.W. complained. "They wanted to shut me up, so they said I would run out of voice. But from now on, I talk as much as I want! Blah-de-blah-de-blah, blah-de-blah-de-blah..."

As Arthur watched, two Dark Bunnies appeared on the TV screen, one from the past and one from the future. The past Dark Bunny had tied up the future Dark Bunny. "Who are you really?" he demanded to know.

"I told you, I'm you from the future," came the reply. "I've traveled back in time to stop Captain Chaos from destroying the Earth."

"Captain who?"

Before the two Dark Bunnies could exchange another word, D.W. charged through the living room, shouting "blah-de-blah-de-blah" at the top of her lungs.

The past Dark Bunny clutched his ears. "What is that infernal racket?" While he was distracted, the future Dark Bunny broke free of his bonds and escaped.

"Moooomm!" Arthur whined. "D.W.'s making noise and it doesn't even mean anything!"

* * *

"Hey, Arthur," Buster asked his friend, "did you catch Bunny League yesterday?" 

"I saw it, but I didn't hear much of it. D.W. suddenly developed a newfound appreciation for her own voice."

"You know," Buster mused, "if I had a time travel device, I bet I could make this the best of all possible worlds. I would go back in time, change something, and come back to the present, and if I didn't like it then I could go back and change something else."

"Yeah, but what if you change something in the past that makes you cease to exist?"

"That's impossible. If I didn't exist then I couldn't do anything to make myself cease to exist."

"I think my brain is imploding," said Arthur.

While the boys wandered the Lakewood hallways, they happened to pass by Beat and Sue Ellen. "I've been thinking things over," Beat told the cat girl. "It's not good for me to stay angry with Muffy. I should probably keep my opinions to myself anyway."

Muffy, approaching from around the corner, noticed that the two girls were talking. Hiding from their view behind the wall, she strained to listen in.

"So you're going to apologize?" asked Sue Ellen.

"First chance I get," said Beat.

"That's very mature of you."

When lunch hour rolled around, Alan and Binky sat at the same table. "How'd you do on the math test?" Binky inquired.

"One hundred percent," was Alan reply.

"I don't know why I even ask."

"How did you do?"

"I got a C."

"You usually get D's and F's," Alan marveled. "You must be getting smarter."

"Juvie must have affected me more than I realize," Binky mused.

"You guys seen Beat?" asked Muffy as she walked past.

"I thought you were avoiding her," said Alan.

"I was," Muffy admitted, "but now I want to, uh, apologize. Yeah. I've been a bad little girl and now I want to make up with her."

"That's very mature of you," Alan commended her.

"Yes, well, I'm very mature for my age."

Art class came next. While Binky labored over a painting of a field full of spring flowers. Beat strolled past and admired his handiwork.

"That's lovely, Binky," she enthused. "You have quite a knack for painting."

"Thanks," said Binky. "A year ago I wouldn't be caught dead painting anything with flowers in it. Or even grass."

"I'm afraid I have little talent for art," Beat lamented. "I'm hopelessly right-brained."

"I ran into Muffy at lunch," Binky told her.

"And...?"

"She wants to apologize to you."

Beat sighed with relief. "That's good. Finally, we can put this ugliness behind us."

"I don't think Muffy's ugly," said Binky.

Mrs. Stiles looked a little paler than before as she wrapped up the final period. "For next Wednesday, I would like all of you to choose a Greek myth and write a three-page report on it." The welcome sound of the bell was heard. "Class dismissed. Muffy, Beatrice, be back here in ten minutes."

The kids squeezed out of the classroom, and Beat encountered Muffy in the hallway.

"Hello, Muffy," she said flatly.

"Hi, Beat," Muffy responded.

For several long moments they faced each other.

"Well?" said Muffy.

"Well what?"

The standoff continued.

"Aren't you going to apologize?" Muffy finally asked.

"What?" said Beat, stunned. "I thought you were going to apologize."

From the classroom entrance, Mrs. Stiles motioned for the girls to report for their detention. They didn't move.

"Muffy?"

"Yes?"

Beat lowered her eyes to the floor. "I should have kept my opinions about your father to myself."

"I agree."

"It's not my role to pass judgment on him."

"Are you still going through with this lawsuit?" Muffy asked her.

"My father is. I had nothing to do with it."

"Well, your apology isn't as contrite as I had hoped," said Muffy flippantly, "but I forgive you anyway. And I'm sorry for that stupid fight."

"Are we friends again?" asked Beat.

"Uh-huh."

"May I embrace you?"

"No, sir."

Remembering that they were still subject to detention, Beat and Muffy started toward the classroom. To their surprise, Mrs. Stiles stood in the doorway, crying.

"Just go home," sniffled the polar bear woman.

The two girls laughed together as they departed the school. "Did we really stand there for ten minutes?" Muffy wondered.

"No, I think it was more like fifteen," Beat replied.

"Let's not fight anymore, Beat," said Muffy.

"Let's not. Regardless of what happens between your dad and mine."

* * *

Saturday evening came, and Mr. Ratburn rang the doorbell at the Read home. Mrs. Read welcomed him into the house. "Come in, Nigel. Good to have you here again. Dave's out on a catering assignment, but he sends his regards." 

"Good to see you again, Jane." He sniffed the air with his large rat nose. "Oh, are you having cake?"

"I knew you were coming, so I made a Bundt," said Mrs. Read. "It's not as fancy as the ones Dave makes."

Stepping into the living room, Mr. Ratburn saw Arthur, Buster, Alan, Francine, and Fern crouched in front of the TV. "The gang's all here," he remarked.

"Hi, Mr. Ratburn," said Arthur.

"How much longer till you get the cast off, Francine?" asked the third-grade teacher.

"Five more weeks," the girl replied. "Can't wait."

"And Buster, I understand you're about to get a new father."

Buster nodded. "Yeah, things are crazy at home."

"And Fern, you were a fantastic Peter Pan. You almost had me believing in fairies."

"Thanks, Mr. Ratburn," said Fern. "I'm going to be in another play soon."

"What play is that?"

"I'll be playing Marta in 'The Sound of Music'."

"I don't want to miss that one." Mr. Ratburn rubbed his belly. "So, when does dinner start?"

"Just a few more minutes," said Mrs. Read.

"Since I have to eat my own cooking most of the time," Mr. Ratburn joked, "you can imagine how hungry I must be."

Fifteen minutes passed, and everyone present, including the kids, was enjoying dinner. "An excellent meal, Jane," Mr. Ratburn complimented.

"Thanks, Nigel," said Mrs. Read. "Although Dave's the real cook. I just dabble." The doorbell rang. I'll get that."

When she opened the door, Sue Ellen and Carla greeted her. "Hi, Mrs. Read," said the little girl. "I think I left a bracelet behind the last time I came here."

"You can come in and look for it," Mrs. Read invited her. "Is this your nanny?"

"Carla Fuente," the Costa Rican woman introduced herself.

"We're just finishing dinner," said Mrs. Read.

The two visitors made their way to the dining room, with Sue Ellen running ahead of Carla. "Hi, everybody," she said nonchalantly. "Hi, Mr. Ratburn."

"I haven't seen you for a while, Sue Ellen," the rat man remarked.

"Arthur, can I go up to your room and look for my bracelet?" Sue Ellen asked.

"Sure, go ahead," said Arthur with a knowing smile.

As Carla stepped up to the table, Mr. Ratburn stood politely. They gazed at each other, and the strains of Tchaikovsky's "Romeo and Juliet" love theme played in the background. "Uh, hello," said Ratburn nervously. "I'm Nigel Nightburn...er, Ratburn."

"Sue Ellen told me about you," said Carla. "I'm Carla Fuente, her nanny."

"Hmm, that's right," Nigel mused. "The Armstrongs were talking about hiring a Latin American friend. So that would be you."

"Are you and Sue Ellen hungry?" Mrs. Read asked Carla. "There's plenty of food."

"That won't be necessary," Carla assured her. "Sue Ellen only wanted to come and look for her bracelet. For some reason she asked me to come along too."

"In that case," said Mrs. Read, "you can just sit with us." Ratburn pulled out a chair so that Carla could seat herself.

"Mr. Ratburn, you wouldn't believe how many books Carla has," Arthur related. "All kinds of English literature and poetry."

"Is that so," Ratburn marveled. "Any Hemingway? Faulkner?"

"Yes, a little," said Carla.

"I don't think I ever really understood Hemingway and Faulkner until I recently reread their works."

"But my greatest love is Shakespeare," Carla told him.

Ratburn smiled with delight. "Mine, too! It's so unusual to meet a Latin American who appreciates Shakespeare."

"I must be an unusual Latin American," said Carla.

" I can't find it, Arthur," came Sue Ellen's voice from upstairs.

Carla started to rise. "I guess I should go now."

"Are you sure you can't stay a few more minutes?" Ratburn urged her.

"Let me see." She turned to Sue Ellen, who was descending the stairway. "Do you mind if we stay a little longer?"

"Not at all," said the girl.

"I'm done with my dinner," said Ratburn. "I'd love to continue our conversation in the living room." With that, he and Carla left the table.

"Hey, guys," said Arthur, "I've got some new comic books, if you want to come up to my room and look at them."

"Cool!" exclaimed Buster. "Comic books!"

"Got any Zutzut?" asked Fern.

"Mom, don't you have some, uh, yard work to do?" Arthur asked his mother.

"Why, yes," said Mrs. Read with a grin. "How could I have forgotten?"

While she stepped out the back door, Sue Ellen, Arthur, Buster, Alan, Francine, and Fern hurried upstairs. Instead of going into Arthur's room, they hid behind a large quilt which had been laid over the guardrail so they could hear the conversation between Ratburn and Carla. Arthur loudly closed the door to his room to make it sound as if they have gone inside. Then the door to the other bedroom opened, and D.W. looked curiously at the six kids.

"Hey, what's..." she started to say, but Arthur grabbed her and put a hand over her mouth.

"Shh!" he ordered. "Stay in your room!"

"Okay." D.W. shrugged and disappeared into her bedroom.

"You really are a tough teacher," Carla remarked as the six friends eavesdropped. "You hand out as much homework in a day what most teachers hand out in a week."

"Have you thought about teaching?" Ratburn asked her.

"Yes, I have," said Carla, "but I've been taking computer classes, and I'm thinking of getting a job in that field."

The kids started to get tired as the conversation dragged on.

"How do you like working with the Armstrongs?" Ratburn asked.

"They're such fine people," Carla replied. "Sue Ellen's a very nice little girl, but she's having a hard time adjusting to her parents being gone."

Ratburn nodded. "It's always hard to adjust to a new situation. When Sue Ellen first came into my class, she struggled with the homework load. Those embassy schools didn't prepare her for the way we do things in America. But by the end of the school year she was getting B's and C's. I didn't want to see all that progress thrown away. Her parents were getting ready to take her to Indonesia with them, but I managed to talk them out of it."

At her hiding place behind the quilt, Sue Ellen's jaw dropped in horror.

In a fantasy sequence, she imagined herself in a dark, creepy mansion. A panel opened in the wall before her, and behind the panel stood Mr. Ratburn, laughing maniacally. Hundreds of rats surrounded his feet, and a few even rested on his shoulders, like in the movie "Willard". Sue Ellen screamed with fright as her fantasy ended.

Then her shock turned into outrage. Leaving the other kids behind, she marched down the stairway and into the living room, where she angrily confronted Mr. Ratburn.

"It was your idea!" she bellowed.

Startled to realize that Sue Ellen had been listening to him, Ratburn searched for an answer that would pacify the girl. "Yes, it was my idea," he acknowledged, "and your parents agreed with it."

"How could you?" Sue Ellen snarled. "They would have taken me with them!"

"Calm down," Carla urged her.

"Your parents and I did what we felt was best for your social and educational development," Ratburn insisted.

"All you care about is if I get good grades!" the cat girl snapped at him. "You don't care if I get to be with my parents!"

"Here we go again," sighed Carla.

"Please try to understand..." Ratburn began to say.

"I hate you, Mr. Ratburn!" Sue Ellen cut him off, and then she started to cry.

Moved by the scene, the other kids crept out from behind the quilt and walked slowly down the stairs, welcomed by Ratburn's suspicious gaze.

Carla pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and started to wipe Sue Ellen's tears. "I want to go home now," the girl sobbed.

"Come on, then." Carla rose and led her by the hand, and the pair vanished through the front door.

"Well, I guess we should be going too," said Francine somberly.

"Yeah," said Buster. "Cool comic books, Arthur."

"See you later, guys," the aardvark boy dismissed his friends.

All equally dejected, Buster, Francine, Alan, and Fern wandered away from Arthur's house. "'Don't blame me if it ends in disaster,' she said," Francine groused. "Then who are we supposed to blame?"

"I hope she'll be all right," said Buster.

"She'll probably be over it by Monday," said Fern.

"What a disaster," Francine mourned. "Why didn't you all slap me down when I came up with the idea?"

TBC


	3. Bully for Sue Ellen

It was Monday morning, two weeks into fourth grade. Mrs. Stiles looked paler and thinner than she had the previous week, as she lectured the kids during first period.

"Tomorrow we'll continue our look at the French Revolution," she announced. "Are there any questions before we dismiss?"

Binky raised his hand. "Mrs. Stiles, what's a Manichee?"

The teacher was a bit taken aback. "Have you been reading _Candide_, Binky?"

"I started it," replied the bulldog boy. "Didn't get very far."

"I'm impressed," said Mrs. Stiles. "Most kids don't read _Candide_ until they get to college."

"I know what a Manichee is," said Buster. "It's one of those sea creatures that live off the coast of Florida. I saw some when I was touring with Los Viajeros."

"That's a manatee," said the teacher. "Manichees were members of a religion that existed in the middle ages. They believed that the world was full of evil and suffering."

"Another quick question," said Binky. "What's an auto-da-fe?"

The bell rang before Mrs. Stiles could answer. As the kids left their desks, she motioned to Francine. "Since you came in late, you can give me your essay now."

"You're reading books, Binky?" said Arthur as he met his friend in the hallway.

"Yeah, I am," said Binky gruffly. "You got a problem with that?"

"Uh, no."

Francine ran the fingers of her left hand over her arm cast as she walked toward the girls' room. Inside she encountered the glum-faced Sue Ellen, who spoke to her in an emotionless tone. "What did the X-ray show?"

"The bone's healing faster than they expected," Francine replied. "With luck, I can get the cast off in two weeks."

"I'm happy to hear that," said Sue Ellen, although she clearly wasn't happy at all.

"I'm not mad at you for what happened on Saturday night," Francine tried to console her friend. "I know you're going through tough times, and..."

"Just forget about it."

"Okay," said Francine, surprised at the girl's curtness.

"I don't know if your mom told you," Sue Ellen added, "but Carla's going to leave me at your place tonight."

"What for?"

The cat girl stared bitterly at the tiles on the floor. "She's going to see_him_ again."

The implication that the matchmaking scheme had succeeded delighted Francine to no end, but she could tell that Sue Ellen didn't share her joy.

Elsewhere, Binky found himself having to run in order to catch up with Van's wheelchair. "That machine of yours is too darn fast," he complained.

"Are you really reading a book about candy?" Van asked him.

"Not candy," Binky corrected the duck boy. "Candide. Although candy's a lot easier to digest."

"I like reading books," said Van. "There's not much else I can do, except play violin. I can't dance, or play sports..."

"Stop doing that," Binky interrupted him.

"Doing what?"

"You always complain about the things you can't do. You're like one of those Manichee

guys, always looking at the bad side of things. Why not talk about the things you_can_ do?"

"Yeah, I guess I should do that," Van mused. "Hey, I just found a composition for violin and clarinet. Maybe you can come to my place and we can play it together."

"That's a great idea," said Binky. "How about tonight?"

"Okay," said Van. "I'm sure everybody would be glad to meet you."

Meanwhile, Sue Ellen had finished her business in the girls' room and made her way to a corner of the playground, where she hailed two bored-looking, slovenly dressed kids. They were Molly and Rattles—the Tough Customers.

"I thought I'd find you here," she said.

* * *

True to his word, Binky took his clarinet and went to visit Van's house after school. The access ramp in front of the doorstep made hollow pounding noises as he walked on it. He rang the doorbell, and Mrs. Cooper greeted him. "You must be Binky. Come in." 

Inside, Van and Dallin were watching TV, while Quinn and her father were talking about law at the dinner table. "Binky's here!" exclaimed Van when he noticed the boy's arrival.

"Wow, what a funny-looking kid," Dallin remarked.

After Binky had introduced himself to Quinn and Mr. Cooper, another family member waltzed out of her room to meet him—Odette, the swan girl. To their surprise, they realized that they already knew each other.

"Binky?"

"Odette?"

"You know my sister?" Van marveled.

"Y-your sister?" Binky stammered.

"Binky was in my ballet class," Odette explained. "I lost track of him after he was sent to juvie."

"Uh, yeah," Binky muttered stupidly. "What she said."

"I'd be careful of him if I were you," she warned Van before going into the study.

Binky shook his head in disbelief as he sat down next to Van's chair. "Odette can't be your sister," he claimed. "She's a swan. You're all ducks. What did you do, adopt her?"

"She was born, just like the others," said Mrs. Cooper. "Trust me. I was there."

Then Logan emerged from his room, dressed, as usual, in the latest grunge fashion. "Hey, Logan, this is Binky," Van introduced his friend.

"Hey, dude," said Logan.

"Check it out, dude," said Binky, examining the older boy's garments. "Totally cool threads, dude."

"Thanks, dude," said Logan.

"Did I say that right?" Binky asked him.

"Dude."

"That means yes," Van interpreted.

"So this is your friend Binky Barnes," said Mr. Cooper as he entered from the study.

"Yup," said Van.

"I've heard a lot about you," said the lawyer. "From the sound of it, you held the playground in the grip of terror."

"Yeah," Binky reflected. "Those were my better days."

"Make yourself at home, Binky," said Mr. Cooper. "Just don't clobber anything."

"I found that composition, Binky," said Van.

"Great!" said Binky. "Let's get started."

"Dude, is there, like, a part for electric guitar?" Logan asked.

"Sorry, dude," said Van as he and Binky retired to his bedroom.

* * *

At about the same time, Catherine Frensky was lounging on the couch with her nose in a college brochure. Elsewhere in the apartment, Mr. Frensky was practicing his golf swing, while Mrs. Frensky cleaned the kitchen. "Dad," asked Catherine, "do you have any idea how much money English majors make?" 

"Well," said her father, "the joke I hear all the time is, "What did the engineering major say to the English major?"

"I don't know, what?"

"Can I super-size that for you?" Mr. Frensky chuckled.

"Maybe I'll just join the army," said Catherine in a resigned tone.

The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Frensky hurried to open it; in the hallway stood Sue Ellen, whose face was still an emotional blank. "Come in," she welcomed the girl.

Francine was idly staring at the ceiling from her bed when Sue Ellen walked into her bedroom. "Still unhappy, I see," she remarked.

Sue Ellen seated herself on Catherine's bed. "So, what do you want to do?"

Francine sat up and pulled a book from the shelf. "Have you read the new book by Beat's mom? It's called 'Bad Dragon, No Damsel'."

"I read it," Sue Ellen told her. "It's boring. Not enough violence."

"How about that Greek mythology paper?" asked Francine. "Have you started yet?"

"No."

"It's due Wednesday."

"I don't care."

This obviously wasn't the Sue Ellen she knew. "It's about your parents, isn't it?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

Francine sighed. "You can do whatever you want. I'll just sit here and read."

Apparently having decided upon TV watching, Sue Ellen wandered into the living room and took a seat next to Catherine. As she flipped channels, a Bill Nye-like science geek appeared on the screen, holding some vials.

"And as we all know, acids and bases neutralize each other..."

"Too educational," grumbled Sue Ellen, changing the channel.

Three crudely-animated little girls with huge eyes and no fingers were on the next channel. "Come on, girls!" shouted their leader. "Let's go kick some..."

"Too empowering," grumbled Sue Ellen, changing the channel.

A narrator guided viewers on a tour of the Taj Mahal on the next channel.

"Been there," grumbled Sue Ellen, changing the channel.

Tourists lined up to kiss the Blarney Stone on another channel.

"Done that," grumbled Sue Ellen, changing the channel.

The next channel featured a hostile confrontation between two cops and a suspect with a pixellated face. "Cool," she said eagerly. "Fighting."

When Catherine saw what Sue Ellen was watching, she said, "That show's off-limits."

"Then don't watch," was Sue Ellen's petulant response.

By this time Francine had floated into the living room, attracted by the sound of flipping channels. Glancing at the screen, she remarked, "This is too violent."

"It's not violent enough," Sue Ellen retorted. "Now shut up, or I'll give you a cast on your left arm to complete the symmetry."

* * *

"You da Van!" 

"No, you da Van!"

"No, you da Van!"

The conversation between Van and Binky went nowhere, but they enjoyed themselves nonetheless.

"You ought to come over to my place," Binky suggested. "I'm sure my folks would love to meet you."

"Is your house accessible?" Van asked.

"Yeah, it's right next to the street, and there's a big driveway."

"I mean, can I get in with my wheelchair?"

Binky pondered for a moment. "Uh, well, there are steps leading to the door. We don't have a ramp like you have at your house."

It was morning, and Francine and Beat were discussing Sue Ellen's odd behavior while strolling down the hallway toward the girls' room.

"She didn't seem like herself at all," Francine related. "She was so sullen."

Then they entered the washroom, and were treated to an incredible shock. Someone had spray-painted the letters SULN on the mirror in large red letters.

"SULN?" Francine gasped. "Sue Ellen!"

"It's not possible!" exclaimed Beat.

"We'd better tell the principal," Francine recommended.

As the two girls left the washroom, they saw Arthur and Buster standing outside the boys' room. "What's going on?" asked Buster when he saw their looks of concern.

"Someone graffitied the girls' room," Francine told him.

"They got the boys' room too," said Arthur. "Big letters. SULN."

Francine and Beat stared at each other in wonderment.

Then Beat shook her head. "Sue Ellen would never do something like this. Someone must be trying to frame her."

"It's just like the time when somebody wrote Binky Rules all over the place," said Buster.

Francine hurried to the principal's office with Arthur, Buster, and Beat in tow. Upon arrival they received another surprise—Sue Ellen herself was sitting in front of Principal Haney's desk. In front of the principal stood a can of red spray paint.

"Can I help you kids?" asked Mr. Haney.

"She didn't do it!" Beat insisted. "She was framed!"

"That's funny," said the principal. "She just confessed."

Four jaws dropped in unison. Sue Ellen merely smirked at them.

"Why?" demanded Francine.

"Just marking my territory," said Sue Ellen flippantly.

"Three days detention," the principal passed his sentence. "And you'll clean the mirrors in both the girls' and boys' rooms until they shine. Starting at lunch hour today."

"Hurt me, Haney," Sue Ellen mocked him.

"Make that five days," said the principal. "Now get to class before I lose patience with you."

Arthur, Buster, Francine, and Beat watched Sue Ellen in astonishment as she strolled carelessly out of Mr. Haney's office. Staring at them with contempt, she said, "What are you staring at, you doofuses?"

Mrs. Stiles looked worse than ever, with pale skin and bloodshot eyes; she mumbled more than she spoke. "President Lincoln was enjoying an evening at the Ford Theatre when..."

Fern raised her hand. "Mrs. Stiles, I can't hear you very well. Can you please speak up?"

"Yes, Fern." The teacher struggled to speak louder as she taught them about the Lincoln assassination.

All the kids except for Fern left the room after the bell rang. "You look terrible," she told the teacher.

"It's a little more serious this year than in past years," said Mrs. Stiles weakly, "but I'll get over it."

"You should go home and get some rest," Fern insisted.

"Don't worry about me."

But Fern continued to worry about her as she left the classroom.

Meanwhile, Sue Ellen, Molly, and Rattles were conversing at their usual spot at the edge of the playground. "The girls' room AND the boy's room?" Molly marveled. "That must have taken some courage."

"You've definitely earned a place with us," said Rattles with satisfaction.

"Glad to hear it," said Sue Ellen

"Now it's time to go to the next level," said Rattles.

"What's that?"

"This is where your tae kwon do skills come in handy. Here's what you do. When it's time for lunch..."

"Wait a minute. I have to clean the mirrors during lunch."

Molly and Rattles glared at her.

"Or...I could do it some other time. Like never."

It was a pleasant, sunny day, so George decided to enjoy his lunch at one of the picnic tables near the playground. As he unwrapped a Danish pastry, Sue Ellen walked up and waved at him. "Hey, George."

"Oh, hi, Sue Ellen. How are you..."

Without warning, Sue Ellen snatched the pastry from George's hands. "Hey!" the moose boy protested.

Sue Ellen spoke with a condescending tone. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you going to eat this?"

"Yeah, that was the idea."

"Did you see my tae kwon do demonstration last week?"

"Yeah."

"Remember when I broke that brick in half with my hand?"

"Uh-huh."

"Now visualize yourself in place of that brick."

It was one of those occasions where George's vivid imagination proved to be a disadvantage. He started to tremble.

"So long, sucker," said Sue Ellen as she skipped away. Once she was out of sight, she took a bite from the pastry and tossed the rest into a trash can.

She chose Buster as her next target. "Hey, Buster, come here."

"Huh? What is it?"

"I've got something to show you." As Buster walked down the hallway in her direction, she pulled off one of her hairbands.

"Bend down a little," Sue Ellen instructed him as he drew close.

Arthur and Francine were sitting on a bench in the center court when they saw Buster running toward them. "Help! Help!" the rabbit boy cried frantically.

They jumped to their feet when they beheld that Buster's ears had been twisted together and secured in place with Sue Ellen's hairband.

"What the..." Arthur exclaimed. "What happened to you, Buster?"

"What?" his friend yelled. "I can't hear you!"

"You help him," Francine told Arthur. "You have two good hands."

As Arthur attempted to remove the hairband from Buster's ears, the boy whined and squirmed. "Calm down," he urged. "Don't get your ears in a knot."

Once the offending hairband had been loosened, Buster whipped his head around to allow his ears to regain their shape. "Sue Ellen's flipped out!" he warned his friends.

Arthur and Francine didn't even have time to disbelieve that the cat girl would do such a thing, when Sue Ellen herself walked up and grabbed the hairband from Arthur's fingers. "Thanks," she said flatly. "I was looking for that."

"What are you..." Francine began to say.

Ignoring her, Sue Ellen reached out and plucked Arthur's glasses from his face. "You should clean these more often," she said, and proceeded to thoroughly clean both sides of the lenses...with her tongue.

"Ewww!" groaned Arthur.

"Why are you acting like this?" Francine demanded.

Sue Ellen handed Arthur's moistened glasses to him. "If you have a problem with the way I'm acting, you can take it up with my parents. Oh, wait...they're not here! Too bad." Seeing Alan nearby with his hands full, she rushed toward him. "Can I help you carry that dinosaur skeleton?"

"Hey! Let go!"

"I don't believe it!" said Francine angrily. "I know she's had a hard time with her parents being gone and all, but...this is outrageous!"

"It's like she drank some kind of potion that turned her evil," remarked Buster.

Begin Buster fantasy sequence.

Sue Ellen, dressed in a white lab coat, stood in a laboratory surrounded by vials full of chemicals. The vial in her hand bubbled and boiled. "This formula will unlock the dark secrets of my mind, making me the most powerful being on Earth!" she gloated. "All in the interests of science, of course."

She poured the contents of the vial down her throat. Suddenly her eyes bulged out. Her hair stood on end. She opened her mouth and a stream of fire shot out. Finally, she collapsed in a faint. Upon regaining consciousness, she pulled herself up and looked at her reflection in a mirror.

"Nothing happened," she lamented. "Well, I can always sell it as a condiment in New Mexico."

Suddenly she started to giggle. Her giggling turned to laughter. Her laughter became more and more maniacal. Her eyes widened, and blood vessels appeared on their edges. "Puny humans!" she bellowed. "I'll destroy you all!"

End Buster fantasy sequence.

Arthur came up with another theory while wiping his glasses. "Maybe she was traveling in the South Pacific, and a witch doctor put a voodoo curse on her."

Begin Arthur fantasy sequence.

On a South Pacific island, a witch doctor was sprinkling ashes on a voodoo doll that resembled a certain orange-haired girl. Meanwhile, at Lakewood Elementary, Sue Ellen was walking down the hall when she suddenly stopped in her tracks. "Must...do...bad...things..." she droned as her eyes glazed over.

End Arthur fantasy sequence.

Moments later, Arthur, Buster, and Francine met with Mr. Haney to tell him the details of Sue Ellen's mischief. "She's been causing trouble all over the school," the principal related. "I've never seen anything like it. One day she's a model student, the next day she's an unholy terror."

"I think it has something to do with her parents being gone," Francine opinionated.

"It's a possibility," Mr. Haney mused. "Although from what I've heard, Miss Fuente is a very competent nanny. Mr. Ratburn speaks very highly of her."

Arthur, Buster, and Francine exchanged knowing smiles.

"Perhaps a long-distance call to Indonesia would be in order," said the principal.

* * *

"Mom, I'm home," mumbled Binky as he arrived at his house after school. 

"Help yourself to some cookies, Binky Winkums," Mrs. Barnes welcomed him.

"I'm not hungry," said Binky, sitting next to his mother on the couch. "This has been the weirdest school day ever."

"What happened?"

"First, somebody wrote graffiti on the mirrors in the boys' and girls' rooms."

"Was it one of the Tough Customers?" asked Mrs. Barnes.

"No." Binky took a breath. "Believe it or not, it was Sue Ellen."

"I don't believe it," said his mother. "She's such a nice girl."

"Not anymore," said Binky fearfully. "She's gone totally bonkers. She's terrorizing the school, just like I did before. Do you know what she did to me? She told me to stand real still, then she untied my shoelaces and tied them together! I almost tripped and fell on my face!"

"Couldn't you have stopped her?"

"And get karate-chopped into next week? Mom, she can break bricks with her bare hands!"

"Does the principal know about this?" Mrs. Barnes wondered.

"Yeah," Binky answered. "But what's he gonna do? Detention? Suspension? If I were him, I'd just drop her in a crate and ship her to her parents."

Binky's mother started to chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

Oh, I was just thinking. Last year all the kids were afraid of you, and now..."

"Let's change the subject," said Binky hurriedly. "Is Dad around? I wanna use his power tools to build something."

* * *

Mrs. Stiles appeared quite ill on Wednesday morning, and seemed to grow progressively sicker as the day passed. "I'll now come around and pick up your reports on Greek mythology," she mumbled, then started to shuffle from one desk to another. 

When she reached Sue Ellen's desk she stopped. "This is a blank sheet of paper with your name on it," she observed. "I can't accept this."

Sue Ellen grinned smugly. "You asked me to write a report on a Greek myth, Mrs. Stiles. I decided to take the logical next step. My report isn't about a myth, it IS a myth. It doesn't exist."

The teacher seemed to lack the strength to argue, but she managed to say, "Bring me a real report tomorrow, and I'll give you half credit."

As the final bell was about to ring, she informed the class, "Tomorrow I'll talk about some of the Greek philosophers, like Plato. And I don't mean the stuff that comes in the little cans."

As had become customary, all the kids except for Fern hurried out at the end of class. The poodle girl watched with concern as Mrs. Stiles sat down at her desk and moaned.

"What's wrong with you?" she demanded. "You look worse every day!"

"I'll be all right, Fern," the polar bear woman insisted. "Now run along."

"Not this time," said Fern doggedly. "You're sick. You need help. I'm not leaving this room until you promise me you'll get it."

A long moment passed between them as Mrs. Stiles gazed into Fern's pleading eyes.

"I can't say no to those puppy-dog eyes," she relented.

"Come on," Fern offered. "I'll walk you to your car."

* * *

After school, Arthur welcomed Buster, Francine, Muffy, Alan, and Beat into his house. Together they deliberated about how to deal with the Sue Ellen menace. 

"What we need is an anti-Sue Ellen device," Arthur proposed.

Alan groaned. "Here we go again."

"Why isn't Binky here?" Muffy wondered. "He's the biggest and strongest."

"He said he had to build something," said Arthur.

"Maybe he's building an anti-Sue Ellen robot," suggested Buster.

Begin Buster fantasy sequence.

A large robot with spinning radar dishes on its head followed Buster as he walked down the school hallway. Suddenly the robot stopped in its tracks.

"Danger, Buster Baxter! Danger!" it warned.

Frightened, Buster yanked open a door in the robot's chest and concealed himself inside as Sue Ellen walked past with a menacing scowl on her face.

End Buster fantasy sequence.

"There's only one logical solution to this problem," Alan stated. "One of us must train to become a master of martial arts."

"Hmm," mused Muffy.

Begin Muffy fantasy sequence.

In a far-off monastery Muffy, dressed in Buddhist robes, and an aged Kung Fu master bowed to each other. "You have learned well, grasshopper," said the master, "but you must face one more test before you leave."

The master opened his palm, on which was laid a coin. "Remove the coin from my hand, and you will be free to go," he challenged Muffy.

In the blink of an eye, before the master knew what had happened, both the coin and Muffy were gone.

End Muffy fantasy sequence.

"But that would require years of training," Beat remarked.

"I might stand a chance against her, if I had the use of both arms," said Francine.

"Arthur, tell me about the night when Sue Ellen blew up at Mr. Ratburn," Beat requested.

"Well, Carla and Ratburn were talking," Arthur recounted, "and Ratburn talked about how he had told Sue Ellen's parents to leave her here, so that she could get good grades and develop socially. Something like that. And then Sue Ellen lost it."

"Why don't we just ship her to Indonesia, if she wants to be there so badly?" Muffy suggested.

"Yeah," said Arthur. "Staying here sure isn't helping her development."

When she heard Arthur's words, Beat developed an idea in her mind.

* * *

On Thursday morning, Alan approached the entrance to room 18 and saw a sign on the door. "Mrs. Stiles is sick today," he read. "Please go to room 22." 

Then it struck him. Room 22 was Rodentia's classroom...

Horror gripped his brain as Bernard Herrmann's shower music from "Psycho" played in the background.

He recovered from the shock in time to see Fern walking up to him. "Would you mind feeling my forehead?" he asked her. "I think I may have a fever."

Fern laid a hand on Alan's forehead. "You feel fine to me."

"Darn," the boy grumbled.

Fern read the notice on the door as Alan walked away. _I hope she's all right_, she thought.

Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed that Rodentia Ratburn was entering the principal's office. Thinking she might learn about Mrs. Stiles' condition by listening in, she strolled quietly over to the office and lurked outside the door. Inside, Mr. Haney and Rodentia were having a serious conversation.

"She told me that the children shouldn't be made aware of her condition or whereabouts," said Rodentia. "Especially Fern Walters. Apparently the two of them were very close."

Fern's heart began to pound anxiously.

"How long will she be in the clinic?" asked Mr. Haney.

"Could be weeks, could be months. Depends on how long it takes to overcome her dependency on the drugs."

_Drugs...?_

"I hope her recovery goes well," said the principal. "But either way, I'm afraid she won't teach at this school again."

The sensation was not unlike a ton of bricks landing on top of Fern's head.

"A pity," lamented Rodentia. "She was doing well. If you'll excuse me now, I have a class to teach."

She desperately wanted to know more, but Fern couldn't take the chance of being discovered by Rodentia. She quickly turned to escape.

And saw Mr. Ratburn towering over her, hands on hips.

"Well, well," the rat man scolded her. "A spy." As his sister emerged from the principal's office, he said, "I trust you've met Fern."

"How much did she hear?" asked Rodentia, startled at having been overheard by a student.

"I heard you talking about Mrs. Stiles," Fern admitted nervously. "You said she's on drugs, and she won't teach here anymore."

"Come into the office," Rodentia invited her, although it sounded more like a command.

Once Fern had seated herself next to Rodentia, the rat woman warned her, "You mustn't tell the other children what you've heard."

"What kind of drugs?" asked Fern.

Mr. Haney spoke up. "All you need to know is that Mrs. Stiles has gone to a place where she can get help. She'll be all right."

Fern's tone became insistent. "What kind of drugs?" she repeated.

"Nigel, close the door," said the principal, and Mr. Ratburn did so after stepping into the office.

"Fern, do you know what benzodiazepines are?" asked Rodentia.

"No."

"They're a kind of prescription drug. They're used to treat anxiety, but improper use can lead to dependency, and sometimes serious illness. That's what happened to Mrs. Stiles."

"Where is she?" asked the worried Fern.

"In a place where she can get the help she needs," answered Mr. Haney.

"I know she's in a clinic somewhere," said Fern with determination. "If you won't tell me where she is, I'll find her myself."

The principal glanced over at Mr. Ratburn. "I wouldn't put it past her," said the teacher.

"Don't worry your little head over Mrs. Stiles," said Mr. Haney patronizingly. "She'll be

fine."

"Let's go, Fern," said Rodentia sweetly. "It's time for class."

In room 22, the kids from Mrs. Stiles' class were mixed with Rodentia's pupils, giving Francine a chance to catch up on old times with Jenna.

"How do you like Rodentia's class?" Francine asked her.

"We're having a great time," said Jenna. "Yesterday we learned how to say 'good morning' in eight different languages. What do you think of Mrs. Stiles?"

"She's sick today, but when she's not sick, she's usually babbling about French philosophers and Greek mythology."

"What about, er, you-know-who? Any idea why the sudden change?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Rodentia called the class to order in her usual sugary voice. "Today we have some special visitors-the kids from Mrs. Stiles' class. They're here because Mrs. Stiles isn't feeling well. Now, kids, what do you do when you're not feeling well?"

"Don't...tempt...me..." mumbled the nauseous-looking Alan.

"Oh, I know! I know!" said Buster. "Bed rest and lots of fluids!"

"Very good," said Rodentia. "What else?"

Jenna raised her hand. "Uh, take some cold medicine?"

"That's right." Sue Ellen put up her hand. "Over there, with the hair puffs."

"Boooorrrriiiing," the cat girl grumbled.

"Please don't disrupt the class," said Rodentia, straining to smile.

"Class?" said Sue Ellen with mock surprise. "I thought we were taping a kid's show."

It was the longest lesson ever.

"For next Monday," said Rodentia, "I would like you all to write a two-page essay entitled, 'If I Were a Superhero'. I'll be grading on spelling, punctuation, and above all, cool superpowers."

Even the ringing of the bell seemed to last five minutes. The relieved students hurried out of the classroom, anxious for a respite from the brain-melting tedium that was Rodentia Ratburn.

"I think my IQ just went down five points," Alan remarked to Binky. "Ask me some tough math questions, quick."

"I never really appreciated Mrs. Stiles until now," said Binky. "'If I Were a Superhero'? How hard can that be?"

"I have an easier time imagining myself as a supervillain," Alan admitted.

The grim-faced Sue Ellen marched through the center court, and fear came upon all who looked upon her—except for Beat, who was secretly tailing her.

She walked by Van, who turned in his wheelchair to follow her. "Why are you being so mean?" the duck boy asked.

"What's it to you?" said Sue Ellen gruffly.

"I think you're just rebelling because your parents are gone. There are worse things than being parentless for a while. I mean, look at me. I can't walk. Ever. Do you hear me whining about it?"

"All the time!" the girl snapped.

Van slowed down and watched as Sue Ellen walked ahead. "Bad example," he thought to himself.

With Beat in hidden pursuit, Sue Ellen made her way to the spot on the playground where she routinely met with Molly and Rattles. Both bullies were present.

"You're putting us all to shame," Molly chided the newest Tough Customer.

"We never dreamed of causing trouble on such a scale," Rattles remarked. "We may have to make you our leader."

"I'll consider it," said Sue Ellen cockily.

"No, you won't," said Beat, making herself visible to them. "It's time to put a stop to this nonsense."

Surprised at the British girl's boldness, the three toughs were momentarily taken aback.

Then Sue Ellen stepped forward and glowered at Beat. "Who's gonna stop me? You?"

"That's right," said Beat fearlessly.

"You name the time and place," said the cat girl menacingly.

"Tomorrow. First recess. Right here."

"You're on, sister," said Sue Ellen. "And don't expect me to go easy on you."

As Beat marched away, Rattles gave Sue Ellen a high-five. "This is just like the old days when we actually fought people," he enthused.

"She must have a death wish," Molly remarked. "She knows you're invincible."

Rumors of the impending battle spread quickly through the school, and many expressed hopes that Beat would find a way to put Sue Ellen in her place. During lunch, Arthur, Buster, Muffy, and Binky were discussing the situation.

"So, Binky, what's this top-secret thing you're building?" Arthur asked.

"I can't tell you," replied Binky. "It's top-secret."

"It's some kind of anti-Sue Ellen weapon, isn't it?" Buster imagined.

"No, it's something for Van," Binky told him. "And I finished it this morning."

"Mind if I join?" asked Beat, who stood near the table with her lunch tray.

The others gazed at her in awe as she sat down.

"Is it true?" asked Arthur. "Did you really challenge Sue Ellen to a fight?"

"It's true," Beat confirmed.

"Are you crazy?" Muffy protested. "She'll grind you into porridge!"

Beat spoke with an unconcerned tone. "I think I know what I'm doing."

"You don't have any special powers that we're not aware of, do you?" Buster inquired of her.

"I can call spirits from the vasty deep," said Beat mysteriously.

"Huh?"

"Shakespeare, you silly goose."

While they chatted, Sue Ellen approached their table. "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes," said Muffy.

"Hi, Beat," said the cat girl with an icy glare.

"You're suddenly being friendly," Beat remarked.

Sue Ellen didn't mince words. "You know you don't have a chance. Spare yourself the humiliation and back out now."

"As they say in Spain," quipped Beat, "no way, Jose."

"It's your funeral." Sue Ellen whirled on her heel and strode away.

"I can see the fear in her eyes," Beat said quietly to the others.

"I didn't see any fear," said Buster.

* * *

After school, Van met Binky in front of the Barnes house. "You're really gonna love this," Binky told his friend. "Now close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them." 

"Closing eyes...now," said Van.

A few moments passed, and Van heard some bumping and scraping.

"Open your eyes," Binky instructed him.

Van did so, and beheld a wonderful sight. The steps leading to the front door of Binky's house had been overlaid with a wooden access ramp. The duck boy smiled broadly.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Binky as he walked up and down the ramp. "It supports my weight. It'll support you and your chair."

Too excited and grateful to speak, Van drifted into a fantasy sequence. Before his eyes, Binky was transfigured into a white-haired Moses, waving his staff over the Red Sea and shouting, "LET MY PEOPLE GO!"

Gaining courage, he piloted his wheelchair up the ramp and into Binky's house.

"This is great!" he gushed. "It was so kind of you! If I could get out of my chair, I would hug you!"

"Remember what I told you," said Binky. "Think about the things you can do, not the things you can't."

* * *

The fateful hour arrived. Molly, Rattles, and the other Tough Customers stood on one side of the sandy arena, while Beat's friends and classmates stood on the other. Naturally, not one of them thought to contact the principal and stop the fight from taking place. 

Francine was the first to see Beat approaching from the school building. "Here she comes!"

"You don't know what she'll do to you," Arthur warned Beat as she drew nearer. "Don't go through with it."

"I can't turn back now," said the rabbit-aardvark girl with resolve.

While Beat's friends either gave her moral support or tried to dissuade her, Sue Ellen appeared out of nowhere, barefoot and clad in a tae kwon do robe.

"Sue! Sue! Sue!" chanted the Tough Customers.

"Run for your life while you still can!" Muffy urged Beat.

"Oh, ye of little faith," was Beat's response.

In a moment, Beat and Sue Ellen faced each other. No one dared stand between them. No one dared make a sound.

"It's not too late to back out," said Sue Ellen threateningly.

Beat spoke loudly and clearly so that all the surrounding children could easily hear. "I know why you're behaving like this. It's all a charade."

"What do you mean?"

"Your parents left you here because they felt it would be good for your social development," Beat clarified. "You're trying to change their minds by pretending that your development is going in the wrong direction. You're no bully. It's just an act."

Beat's words elicited confused whispers among her friends and the Tough Customers. Sue Ellen stood motionless and steely-eyed, as if waiting for her foe to make a move.

"You are too a bully," Molly called to her. "Show her. Beat her up."

"You don't have it in you to hurt me," Beat claimed. "That's why you kept asking me to back out."

Seconds went by. The fire in Sue Ellen's eyes slowly burned out. Tears formed.

She sank to her knees and started to cry.

Loud groans swept through the Tough Customer mob.

"Man, what a wuss," Rattles complained. "I can't believe we were about to make her our leader."

"We?" said Molly.

"Why do you have to be so doggone smart, Beat?" Sue Ellen sobbed. "If not for you, it would've worked."

"Just doing my job as a friend," said Beat.

A cry went up from among the Tough Customers. "It's the principal, man!"

The crowd dispersed in all directions as Mr. Haney approached, clutching a lollipop in the fingers of one hand. He paid no heed to the kids who had thronged to witness the fight. Instead, his attention was focused on the weeping cat girl.

"Miss Armstrong, I'd like to have a word with you in my office."

Her tears started to dry as she made the walk to the principal's office. She was certain she would receive another punishment to add to her long list. However, when she arrived, she beheld a sight that shocked and amazed her.

Standing before her, wearing an Indonesian batik dress, was her mother.

"M-m-mom?"

"I flew 10,000 miles to hear your explanation," said Mrs. Armstrong sternly. "It had better be good."

"Where's Dad?" Sue Ellen asked.

"He's still in Jakarta."

Mr. Haney cleared his throat. "I'll leave the two of you alone," he offered, and quickly stepped out of the office.

Then Mrs. Armstrong sat down, and her daughter sat across from her.

"It was all a stupid idea I came up with," Sue Ellen admitted. "I thought I could change your minds about leaving me here by pretending to be bad. But Beat was too smart for me. She figured it out."

Mrs. Armstrong stared, as if expecting a torrent of either apologies or excuses.

"Why didn't you take me with you?" Sue Ellen demanded tearfully. "Why did you listen to that awful Mr. Ratburn?"

"Mr. Ratburn isn't awful," Mrs. Armstrong replied. "He's a very good teacher. He knows more about education than your father and I will ever know."

"But I miss you," the little girl mourned.

"We miss you too. It wasn't easy for us to leave you with Carla, but we felt it was the right thing to do. You see, up to now your father and I have been the only constants in your life. You've been uprooted again and again. You've never had a chance to stay in one place long enough to adjust to one culture, or make lasting friendships. That's not good for you. Your father can do it, but only because he knows so much about different cultures that he can blend in wherever he goes."

Sue Ellen didn't reply, but seemed to fall into deep thought.

"We're having dinner tonight at the Quetzalcoatl Inn with Carla and Mr. Ratburn," Mrs. Armstrong went on. "You'll get another chance to see what a great person Nigel is."

"I don't want to go," Sue Ellen grumbled.

"It's either that or sit at home and do nothing. You're grounded, after all."

The cat girl stared at the floor for a second, then let out an almost inaudible "okay".

"Great," said Mrs. Armstrong. "We'll talk more then. Now go to your class, and don't get into any more trouble, all right?"

"Okay." Sue Ellen managed a weak smile.

Arthur and Buster saw the pair as they emerged from Mr. Haney's office. "Look! It's Mrs. Armstrong!" Buster exclaimed.

"You flew all the way here?" Arthur marveled.

"Yes, I did," the cat woman replied. "But that's what I do-fly all over the world, putting out brush fires."

"Is Sue Ellen all right now?" Buster inquired.

"Of course she is. She won't trouble you any longer."

"What was wrong with her?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a minor case of alien possession."

"Aliens," mused Buster as he watched Mrs. Armstrong walk away. "I knew it all along."

"Why do ALL the grownups have to encourage him?" thought Arthur as he and Buster followed the sad-faced Sue Ellen to Rodentia's classroom.

TBC


	4. Save the Last Trance

Armed with flashlights, Special Agent Muledeer (Buster) and Special Agent Gully (Fern) carefully descended a dimly lit stairway.

"She was abusing prescription drugs," said Agent Gully. "At least that's what I was told."

"That's what the school wants you to believe," said Agent Muledeer.

"So what's your take on it?" Gully asked.

"She's been infected with alien DNA," Muledeer declared. "They're turning her into a human-alien hybrid. And the evidence I need should be right behind this door!"

At the bottom of the stairway, Muledeer and Gully encountered a metal door on which was printed the warning, DO NOT ENTER. RESTRICTED AREA. ABANDON ALL HOPE.

"I never learned to read warnings," said Muledeer, pushing his way through the door. Gully followed him into a dark, dry cave.

"Who would build a cave underneath a rehab clinic?" Gully wondered.

"This isn't a rehab clinic," said Muledeer. "It's a secret repository for alien technology."

"You're crazy," said Gully. "As I keep telling you, there's a scientific explanation for everything."

"You still don't believe?" Muledeer chided her. "How many times have you been abducted?"

"Three."

"Five! The other two abductions were erased from your memory."

A sinsister voice called to them from the darkness. "You're too late, Muledeer."

The two agents pointed their flashlights in the direction of the voice, and recognized the face of their arch-nemesis—the lollipop-sucking Cavity Man (Mr. Haney).

"Cavity Man!" exclaimed Muledeer. "I knew you were behind this!"

"The staff destroyed all evidence of alien activity, and ate all the pizza, before vacating," said Cavity Man mockingly.

"What have you done with Mrs. Stiles?" Gully demanded.

"I'm sorry, but we don't provide information about our test subjects to the general public."

"I've had it with your lies and cover-ups!" Muledeer shouted. "I want the truth!"

"You won't find it in here," said Cavity Man wickedly. "It's out there! Muwahahahaha!"

In reality, Fern and Buster were surfing the Internet on the computer in Fern's bedroom.

"Talk quietly, Buster," Fern cautioned. "We don't want my parents to know what we're doing."

"Why not?"

"Mr. Haney and the Ratburns may have tipped them off. We can't trust anyone."

"You trusted me," Buster pointed out.

"You're my partner," Fern reminded him.

"What have you got so far?"

"I called the area hospitals, and Mrs. Stiles isn't at any of them. Then I called the three rehab clinics in Elwood City, but they don't provide information about their patients to the general public. So now I'm checking their web sites."

She pulled up the web site of the Kant-Stoppe Rehabilitation Center . "Hmm, here's a link to patient information."

She clicked on the link, only to be confronted with a login window.

"Another dead end," Buster remarked.

"So it would seem. I wish I could remember the name of the drug that Miss Ratburn mentioned. Benzo...benzo something. I'd ask her to repeat it for me, but I'm afraid she'd get suspicious."

"You could try looking under the kinds of problems they treat," Buster suggested. "Maybe something will jog your memory."

"Here's a page listing their evening courses," said Fern. "Maybe we could sign up for an evening course, then slip out and snoop around."

She clicked the link, and her eyes went wide.

"A two-week course on prescription drug abuse...taught by Rodentia Ratburn!"

Buster's mouth fell open. "No way. Rodentia teaches at the rehab clinic?"

"Looks that way," said Fern. "It's got to be better than the stuff she teaches us."

"Rodentia probably referred Mrs. Stiles to the clinic where she teaches," Buster theorized. "Unless she teachers at other clinics as well."

"I'll check," said Fern.

* * *

Another Monday morning rolled along. While Arthur stuffed books and papers into his bag in preparation for school, D.W. was playing with the Tibble twins. 

"Got everything you need?" Mrs. Read asked her son. "All your homework?"

"Yeah," said Arthur. "We're supposed to get a new substitute teacher today, but I still have to give Miss Ratburn this stupid essay about being a superhero."

"What's so stupid about being a superhero?" Tommy asked him.

"That would be the coolest thing in the world," said Tommy.

Begin Tibble fantasy sequence.

While Tommy and Timmy where building sand castles, they suddenly heard the pounding of giant footsteps. Looking into the distance, they saw a gigantic lizard monster stomping through Elwood City, crushing buildings under its enormous feet.

"Look, Timmy!" cried Tommy. "That big lizard is destroying the city!"

Upon closer inspection, they observed that the monster was clutching D.W. in its huge claw. "Help! Help!" screamed the girl as she struggled to break free.

"It's got D.W.!" exclaimed Timmy.

"We've got to save her!" declared Tommy.

"TIBBLE TWIN POWERS, ACTIVATE!" they shouted together.

An explosion and flash of light followed. Where Tommy and Timmy had stood, a pair of pint-sized, costumed superheroes had appeared. Each had the letter T emblazoned on the front of his uniform. Raising their fists, they leaped into the sky and flew toward the menacing monster.

"I can fly faster than you can," said Tommy.

"No, you can't," said Timmy.

As the Super Tibbles drew closer to the lizard monster, they saw that Bionic Bunny was pounding his fists into the creature with all his might, but with no effect. The caped hare wiped his brow with relief when he saw them coming. "Oh, thank goodness!"

"Do not fear, D.W.!" cried Timmy fearlessly. "We've come to rescue you!"

"Hold it, guys, hold it!" yelled D.W. from the monster's hand. "Don't you remember what happened the last time you pretended to be superheroes? I had to go to the hospital and get stitches! I'll take my chances with the monster, thank you very much."

"She's got a point," Tommy said to Timmy.

"Yeah," said Timmy. "Besides, I'm hungry."

End Tibble fantasy sequence.

"What kind of superhero are you?" D.W. asked her brother.

"I have a genetic mutation that makes me shoot lasers out of my eyes," Arthur replied. "I have to wear special glasses to keep from vaporizing everything in sight."

"That does sound pretty stupid," D.W. remarked.

Minutes later Arthur arrived at room 18 in Lakewood Elementary. All of his regular classmates were gathered there, except for Sue Ellen. Van sat in his wheelchair next to Binky.

"Odette wants you to come over after school," Van told the bulldog boy.

"Odette does?" said Binky with a bit of surprise and anxiety.

"Yeah. She's even baking a cake."

Francine and Beat were also seated together. "Do you know how long Sue Ellen is suspended for?" Francine asked Beat.

"The whole week, I think," Beat answered.

"Suspended_and_ grounded," Francine mused. "I can't think of anything worse. But at least she's learned her lesson this way."

"One more week until your cast comes off," said Beat. "How does it feel?"

"Can't wait," said Francine with an eager smile.

"Then you and I can play some football together," Beat anticipated. "I mean, soccer."

At that moment a man with a horse face, moustache, and beard entered the classroom, and the kids fixed their gazes on him. Taking a piece of chalk, he wrote his name on the board-Bud Wald.

"As you see, my name's Bud Wald," he announced to the class. "I'll be your teacher until Mrs. Stiles comes back or until the end of the school year, whichever comes first. My name is nice and short, so it should be easy to write. In fact, if you think your name is too long, maybe we can negotiate a trade." The kids laughed. "Now I don't mind if you call me Mr. Wald, or Sir, but I like to be called simply Bud. So, what are you gonna call me?"

"Bud," said the kids.

"Now let's go through the roll. Susan Ellen Armstrong." There was no reply. "Not here? No problem, I can play two roles. Clark Philip Barnes."

Much to the kids' amusement, Mr. Wald occasionally switched between his own persona and that of Sue Ellen, for which he imitated a little girl's voice.

"Now, are there any questions about the Louisiana Purchase? Yes, Miss Armstrong. 'Hey, Bud, if land was so cheap back then, why is it so expensive now?' That's a good question, Miss Armstrong. And the answer is, back then the West was a huge, open frontier, and land was plentifully available. Nowadays all the useful land in the world has people living on it. Does that answer your question? 'Yes, Bud, I understand perfectly now.' Glad to hear it. Now, in the third year of Thomas Jefferson's presidency..."

The class flew by quickly.

"Oh, no, not the bell!" Mr. Wald exclaimed. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow to hear the rest of the story."

And for once, the kids looked forward to it.

"This new teacher is amazing," Muffy remarked to Arthur and Buster. "I've never been so entertained in all my long years as an elementary student."

"He didn't assign any homework," Buster noted. "Weird."

"Yeah, but it's not like I'm gonna forget anything he said," said Arthur.

"He's a lot better than Miss Ratburn," said Muffy, who proceeded to imitate the rat woman. "Now, children, count the fingers on your left hand. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Very good. Now count the fingers on your right hand. If that's too hard, just count the fingers on your left hand again."

"You sound just like her," Arthur marveled. "Do it again."

Muffy went on with her Rodentia impression. "Now let's sing a song. I like fudge, I like fudge, if you ask me what I like I'll say, I like fudge."

"I can't even tell the difference," said Arthur as Buster was struck by a sudden idea.

* * *

On the same morning, Miss Cosma was gathering her kindergarten pupils, which included D.W., the Tibbles, Emily, Vicita, and Dallin. "Miss Cosma, can we make balloon animals again?" asked Vicita. 

"Not today," replied the teacher. "Today we're going to practice drawing letters and numbers. We'll make more balloon animals next..."

The door to the classroom opened, and a little girl who seemed a bit shy shuffled in, coaxed along by her mother. All the kids turned to get a good look.

D.W.'s jaw dropped halfway to the center of the Earth.

"Here she is now," said Miss Cosma. "Kids, we have a new little girl in our class today. Her name is Nadine Harris."

"She's pretty," said Dallin.

D.W. couldn't believe what she was seeing. It simply wasn't possible.

The girl walking toward her was an exact image of Nadine. Nadine, her one-time imaginary friend. A girl who didn't really exist. Yet there she was.

The squirrel-faced blond girl dragged a bushy tail along the floor as she walked. Her mother, a woman of medium height, wore a blue dress similar to her daughter's, and had a significantly longer tail. She left the classroom upon seeing that her daughter was effortlessly warming up to the other kids.

After greeting everyone else, the new girl noticed D.W.'s frozen stare and waved her hand in front of the aardvark girl's face. D.W. didn't move or even blink. "I guess she's never seen a girl with a tail before," said Nadine to Miss Cosma.

Finally, D.W. started to mutter something. "You're...not...real..."

The kids fell silent, not sure of what to say. "D.W., are you all right?" asked the teacher.

"You're not real!" D.W. blurted out in terror. "YOU'RE NOT REAL!"

She then ran at breakneck speed from the classroom. By the time Miss Cosma and the other kids emerged from the building, D.W. was standing on the sidewalk and staring back at them, panting and white with fear.

"Come back," Miss Cosma called to her. "Everything's okay."

"Why is she afraid of me?" Nadine asked the teacher.

"I don't know."

Knowing of nothing better to do, Nadine stepped closer to D.W. "Keep away from me!" shouted the frightened girl. "You don't exist! I made you up!"

"What are you talking about?" asked the confused Nadine.

D.W. covered her hands with her eyes. "Nobody's there! Nobody's there!" she chanted. "I open my eyes and nobody's there!"

When she uncovered her eyes, Nadine was still standing in front of her, sporting a friendly smile. She sat down on the sidewalk and started to cry bitterly.

Nadine turned to Miss Cosma. "I don't think she wants to be my friend," she said disappointedly.

The teacher picked up her cell phone and dialed a number. "Hello, Mrs. Read?"

As Mr. Read was going about his catering work, his wife burst into the house carrying the frantic D.W. over her shoulder. "Back so soon? What's wrong?"

"Something frightened her at kindergarten," said Mrs. Read wearily. "She cried and cried all the way here."

Mr. Read took a rag and wiped D.W.'s tears with it. "Do you want to tell us about it, D.W.?"

The girl only went on crying. Her parents deposited her on the couch, where she cried for about half a minute before she finally spoke.

"Mom, Dad, I'm going crazy! I tried and tried to make Nadine go away, but now she's back again!"

"Did you try doing the things we told you to do?" asked Mrs. Read.

"It didn't work!" D.W. sobbed. "Mom, all the other kids can see her too!"

Mrs. Read turned to her husband. "I saw a new girl at the kindergarten. She had a tail."

"That's her! That's Nadine! You saw her too?"

Without another word, Mrs. Read went to the phone and made a call to Miss Cosma's cell number. "Hello, Miss Cosma? I'm sorry for interrupting your class. What can you tell me about the new girl with the tail? I see. What's her hair color? Right. What's she wearing? Uh-huh. Thank you very much. Bye."

"What did you find out?" Mr. Read asked her.

"It's a practical joke. It has to be. I'll bet the Tibbles are behind it."

Mrs. Read returned to the living room, where D.W. had curled up into a fetal position on the couch. "There's nothing to be afraid of," she reassured her daughter. "That girl isn't really Nadine."

"Yes, she is!" D.W. insisted. "She looks just like Nadine! She even has the same name!"

"Let's go back to kindergarten," said Mrs. Read. "I'm sure she's a very nice girl and she won't hurt you."

D.W. panicked. "No! No! I don't want to go back!"

"Fine," said Mrs. Read impatiently. "Just lie there and take a nap, and when you wake up, Nadine will be gone."

"Okay," said D.W.

* * *

It was a typical afternoon at the Cooper house. Van and Dallin were playing a video game, Mr. Cooper was reading the news in the study, and Odette was also in the study, reading an issue of 'Cosmo Swan' magazine. On the cover was a picture of a glamorous-looking swan woman, and the headline, 'Add Inches to Your Neck!' 

"Gotcha again, Van!" Dallin gloated as he ripped his joystick to the left and right.

"Awww," Van groaned. "Best out of seven?"

The doorbell rang. Odette nearly dropped her magazine. "I'll get it," she called out.

As she expected, the visitor was Binky Barnes. "Come in, Binky."

"Hi, Odette," said the boy, who sounded somewhat nervous. He sniffed the air. "Oh, is that chocolate?"

"Yes, it'll be done in a few minutes. Sit wherever you want." Odette bounced to the kitchen to check the cake's status.

"Yo, Binkmeister!" Van called to his friend as he walked by.

Binky sat on the couch in the study and started a conversation with Mr. Cooper, who seemed interested in the she-bully trouble of the previous week. Shortly Odette entered and seated herself next to him. The top of Binky's head was more or less even with the bottom of Odette's neck, which was about eighteen inches long.

"So, uh, why'd you invite me over?" Binky asked the swan girl.

"I thought it would be nice," said Odette. "I've been rude to you lately, and I wanted to make it up."

"Rude? How?"

"Telling Van to be careful about you, and all that."

"What's wrong with that? I have a reputation for being mean, after all."

"That's not what I saw last week."

"What did you see?"

"I saw a nice boy who went to the trouble of building a ramp so that Van could get into his house," said Odette sweetly.

Binky felt his nerves melting as the older girl gazed into his eyes. A buzzer rang in the kitchen.

Mrs. Cooper emerged from the bathroom. "I'll take care of the cake for you, Odette," she offered.

"Thanks, Mom."

"It wasn't anything big," said Binky. "Van and I are friends now, and I wanted to make life easier for him, that's all."

"But it shows you have a big heart," Odette complimented him.

The bulldog boy started to sweat. "Uh, yeah, a big heart. Well, I, uh, I think you have a big heart too, Odette."

The swan girl giggled. "Binky, I talked to the other students in my ballet class, and we all agree that we'd really like to have you back."

"Uh, yeah," said Binky clumsily. "Ballet class. I've, uh, been meaning to start again, but, well, uh, with school and everything else, um, I just haven't had the time."

"You're such a good dancer," said Odette.

Binky's sweating became more profuse. "You, uh, you really think so? I...I think I'm big and clumsy. I'm not, like, graceful and, uh, coordinated like you are."

Odette smiled and placed a hand on Binky's shoulder. The boy pulled away abruptly.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "You look nervous."

"I...I j-just remembered I have a report to finish," Binky stammered.

"Can't you..."

Binky rose quickly. "It was nice of you to invite me."

"Don't go," Odette urged him. "You haven't had any cake yet."

"I'm not really that hungry," Binky lied. "I gotta go now. Bye, Odette. Bye, Van."

As everyone looked on with surprise, Binky walked hastily out the front door. Once outside, he mopped his brow and struggled to catch his breath.

* * *

"Omigosh!" exclaimed Muffy in shock. "Why weren't we told about this?" 

"I don't know," said Fern. "I guess they don't want us to worry."

"What do they think we are, children?" Muffy griped.

"So here's my plan," Buster related. "Muffy, you call the clinic and use your imitation of Miss Ratburn to try to get through to Mrs. Stiles. Once you do, then Fern can talk to her."

"I called the clinic again," said Fern. "Apparently most of the people there know Miss Ratburn, so you have a pretty good chance."

"At last, a true test of my acting talents," said Muffy wistfully.

"This was a good idea," Fern said to Buster.

Muffy called the clinic's number on Fern's speakerphone, and the three kids heard a recorded voice over the line. "Welcome to the Kant-Stoppe Rehabilitation Center. If you know your party's extension, you may dial it now. Otherwise, please stay on the line, and a customer service representative will be with you shortly."

Cheesy pop music started playing, indicating that Muffy had been put on hold. "What?" she complained. "How can they put_me_ on hold?"

"Dial an extension, Muffy," Buster suggested.

"Which one?"

"Any one. Just dial some numbers."

Muffy dialed a few digits at random, and a woman's voice was heard through the speakerphone. "Laundry. This is Janet."

Fern gave Muffy a thumbs-up.

"Hello, Janet," said Muffy in her Rodentia voice. "This is Rodentia. Rodentia Ratburn."

"Rodie!" exclaimed the woman. "How are you? I haven't heard from you in ages!"

Fern and Buster smiled at each other. Clearly Fate was on their side this time.

"You know how it is with me," said Muffy. "Always busy inspiring the rising generation of children."

"Are you still dating Ernest?" Janet asked. "I know your brother Nigel doesn't approve of him."

"Ernest? That slob? I dumped him years ago. The man never picks up after himself, and he has no fashion sense at all."

Fern moved her finger across her throat, signaling for Muffy to stop.

"But I don't have time to talk about him," said Muffy. "I'm trying to reach a patient."

"In that case, let me transfer you to Laura."

"Yes, Laura," said Muffy. "I'd love to talk to Laura. Good old Laura."

More cheesy pop music played. "This is Laura," came another woman's voice.

"Laura, this is Rodentia," said Muffy.

"Hi, Rodie. Calling again so soon?"

"Yes, I need to talk to Jean Stiles again. Can you put me through?"

"You sound a little strange," said Laura. "Are you feeling well?"

"Uh, I'm getting over a cold."

"You sounded fine when you called ten minutes ago."

"Wait, did I say I'm getting over a cold? I meant to say I'm developing one."

"I hope you get better," said Laura. "Hold on, I'll transfer you to Jean."

The kids waited breathlessly. After a few seconds of silence on the line, they heard the weak voice of Mrs. Stiles. "Hello?"

Fern's heart leaped into her throat. "Mrs. Stiles, it's me, Fern," she spoke.

"Fern...?"

The line was silent for a moment. Then the teacher's voice came through, somewhat stronger.

"How did you get through to me? How did you know where I was? You shouldn't be calling me."

The woman's brusqueness startled Fern. "I was worried about you. I wanted to help."

"I have all the help I need," Mrs. Stiles insisted. "You mustn't call me again, Fern. Promise you won't call me again."

"But..."

"Promise me, Fern!"

"I...I promise."

"Promise you won't tell anyone where I am or how to reach me."

"I promise."

"Goodbye, Fern." The line went dead.

Fern, Buster, and Muffy stared at each other, uncertain as to why Mrs. Stiles refused to speak to them.

"At least we know she's still alive," said Buster.

* * *

The sky was overcast the next morning, and the weather report suggested rain. 

"See you later, Mom," said Binky as he zipped his book bag closed.

"Don't forget your umbrella," Mrs. Barnes advised him.

Reaching into the closet, Binky grabbed hold of the long, curved handle of his umbrella. Suddenly, in his imagination, the handle turned into the head and neck of a swan. Nervous, he shoved the umbrella back into the closet.

"What the heck," he said flippantly. "I'll just get wet."

When he arrived at the school a few minutes later, he saw an old Buick driven by Quinn Cooper at the curb. Odette, who was helping Van out of the car and into his wheelchair, saw Binky and waved.

"Hi, Binky."

"H-h-hi..." the boy stuttered.

"There's a ballet recital coming up," the swan girl informed him. "We could really use you."

"Uh..." was all Binky could choke out.

"Yo, Binky man!" Van greeted him as he rolled up.

"Er, hi, Van," said Binky with a weak wave.

"See you later, Binky," said Odette as she squeezed herself into Quinn's car, craning her neck downwards to make it fit.

"What if she's there again, Mom?" said D.W. worriedly.

"I told you, that girl is not your imaginary friend," Mrs. Read assured her. "She's someone else."

"But she looks just like Nadine!" D.W. protested.

"A lot of girls look alike, D.W. I'm sure it's just a coincidence."

"What's a coincidence?"

"It's when two things happen at the same time and...oh, I don't know. If you want, I can go to kindergarten with you and meet this girl."

"Will you, Mom? Please?"

It wasn't long before D.W. and Mrs. Read arrived in Miss Cosma's kindergarten classroom. The other kids were there, including Nadine.

"There she is, Mom!" said D.W., pointing. "There's Nadine!"

"She looks like a normal little girl to me," said Mrs. Read. "Except for the tail."

Slowly and hesitantly, D.W. walked over to Nadine, stuck out a hand, and gently laid a finger on the girl's face. "I can touch you," she marveled.

"Well, duh," was Nadine's response.

"I'm thinking of a number between one and ten," said D.W.

"Three?"

"Wrong! Six."

"Why are you so weird?" Nadine asked her.

"She has an imaginary friend named Nadine," Timmy pointed out.

Nadine gasped with delight. "You have an imaginary friend?"

"I used to," D.W. admitted. "Her name was Nadine and she looked just like you."

Seeing that her work was done, Mrs. Read turned and left the classroom.

"I have an imaginary friend too," said Nadine. "Her name's Pickles."

"Can I see her?" D.W. requested.

"No, I'm the only one who can see her."

"What does she look like?"

"She's a Pomeranian."

"Let's get started, kids," Miss Cosma called to them. Putting a pair of sock puppets over her hands, she said, "Tooty and Fruity have a story to tell you."

The school day was also beginning at Lakewood. "Let's start with the roll," said Mr. Wald. "Susan Ellen Armstrong. 'Here.' Clark Philip Barnes."

Before he could complete the roll call, the door opened and Principal Haney popped in his head. "I'd like to have a word with Fern Walters in my office," he announced.

All eyes were on the poodle girl, who began to realize that a dire fate was in store for her.

Not only Rodentia, but her own mother were waiting for her in the principal's office. Neither of them seemed very pleased.

"You called Mrs. Stiles," Rodentia accused her. "Why?"

"How did you know?" Fern asked fearfully.

"She told me. She called me right after you called her. Maybe I didn't make it clear enough to you that she wants no contact with her students."

"I just wanted to help."

"I know you meant well," said the rat woman calmly, "but what you did was wrong. And so was imitating my voice in order to trick the staff."

"That wasn't me!" Fern blurted out.

"Then who was it?"

Fern realized in horror that she had just made a huge mistake. Not only would she suffer now, but her friends as well.

"I asked, who was it?"

"It was Muffy," Fern admitted.

Rodentia rubbed her chin pensively. "So Muffy knows."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Who else?"

"Buster. No one else. Only us three."

Rodentia narrowed her eyes at Fern. "Next time I'll know better than to trust you with a secret."

"Why does this have to be a secret?" said Fern earnestly. "Why can't the kids know what really happened?"

"If you had a drug problem," Rodentia asked her, "would you want everybody to know about it?"

"No, ma'am."

"What about the people who look up to you and respect you? Would you want them to know?"

Fern found that question much harder to answer than the previous question.

"Mrs. Stiles is ashamed of what's happened to her," Rodentia went on. "She doesn't want her students to know about it. She doesn't even want her family to know about it. Can you blame her?"

"No, ma'am."

"There's another thing." Rodentia's tone became more somber. "Her condition is very delicate. I didn't tell you this before, but benzo withdrawal can be very difficult. It can involve uncontrollable mood swings, paranoia...even suicidal impulses."

Fern gasped.

"This is not a good time for her to be subjected to any unnecessary emotional strain. Fern, you were the closest to her of all her students. She talked to me again and again about you. She talked about how disappointed you would be if you knew the truth."

"I'm not disappointed!"

"I know that. But Mrs. Stiles doesn't know that. And when she heard your voice on the phone, and realized that you had learned the truth about her, it nearly broke her heart. Do you understand now why it was wrong for you to call her?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Fern, lowering her head. "I'm sorry."

"I know you wanted to help, honey," said Mrs. Walters. "But you could have helped more by listening to Miss Ratburn."

"You can go back to class now, Fern," said Mr. Haney.

"Thank you, sir."

Once Fern had left the office, the principal rose from his desk. "I'll get Muffy and Buster," he told Rodentia.

During the next day's morning recess, Binky was shooting hoops when he heard the familiar whine of a wheelchair approaching him.

"Hey, Binky, can I try for a while?" Van asked him.

"Here you go, sport," said Binky, passing the ball to the duck boy.

Van shot carefully, but missed the basket entirely. "Air ball! Air ball!" chanted Binky.

"I'll go get that," Van offered.

"No, I'll get it," Binky countered.

"No, let me get it."

"We'll both get it."

So Binky and Van went after the ball together. As Binky bent over to pick it up, Van asked him a blunt question.

"Do you have a crush on my sister?"

Stunned, Binky dropped the ball.

"M-me? Odette? A crush? Are you kidding? She's a seventh grader! What gives you an idea like that?"

"Because you've been acting really weird around her," Van pointed out.

"Uh, yeah," said Binky anxiously. "I can explain that. Is next week good for you?"

"I think she likes you," said Van.

Binky froze. A small whining noise came out of his throat.

"Binky? You okay?"

The bulldog boy groaned and sat on the ground. As Van piloted his chair to his friend's side, Binky looked at him somberly.

"Van, I'm gonna tell you a secret. And you'd better not tell anyone, or else I'll...I'll...never tell you any more secrets."

"I won't tell a soul," Van promised.

Binky glanced around to make sure nobody else was within earshot, then took a deep breath. "Yes, I do have a crush on Odette."

"I knew it!" Van exclaimed.

"Shh! Don't alert the media, you doofus!"

"Sorry."

"I've had a crush on Odette ever since we started going to ballet classes together," he admitted. "Back then it was no big deal because she hardly noticed me. But now she's being nice to me, and...and...I can't help it! I just lose it whenever I see her!"

"Are you gonna ask her out?" asked Van eagerly.

"Are you crazy? I turn into a nervous wreck whenever I come within five feet of her! I've had girls come on to me before, but never one I had a crush on. I don't know what to do! I just wanna stay away from her."

"I bet she would say yes."

"You're not listening to a word I say!" Binky complained. Then he paused for a brief thought. "You really think she would say yes?"

"I think so."

"Oh, but who am I kidding?" Binky mourned. "I'd be so nervous I wouldn't be able to put a sentence together. If this is love, it sure is scary."

"You're just bashful," said Van.

"What if I stay like this?" Binky worried. "I'll never get married! I'll be like those guys in the robes!"

"Monks?"

"Whatever."

"You need to find a way to get over being bashful," Van suggested.

"Yeah," Binky acknowledged, "but I'm too dumb to think of anything."

Van's face lit up. "Hey! Are you pondering what I'm pondering, Binky?"

"I think so, but where would I store that many shopping carts?" He sighed. "Okay, Van, what are you pondering?"

"Hypnosis!"

"Uh, let's go back to the shopping cart idea."

"No, really," Van insisted. My uncle used hypnosis to stop smoking. I read a book about hypnosis. There was a guy who was terrified of talking to strangers. They hypnotized him, and he was cured."

"That's nothing but smoke and mirrors," said Binky skeptically.

"It's almost time for class," said Van, looking at his watch.

While the duck boy rolled away, Binky stood and considered his suggestion.

After school, Binky went to meet with Prunella in her attic. As they sat on opposite ends of the crystal ball table, Binky described his dilemma.

"Yeah, hypnotism's great for that sort of thing," said Prunella. "Rubella taught me how to hypnotize people last summer. It doesn't hurt a bit."

"How long will it take?" asked Binky.

"It depends on the strength of the subject's will," Prunella told him. "Now let's get started. Look deeply into my eyes..."

It was only a few seconds before Binky's eyes glazed over.

"That was quick," Prunella remarked. "Can you hear me, Binky?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me about Odette Cooper," Prunella inquired.

"I met her in ballet class. She's the best dancer I've ever seen."

"I see. Binky, I want you to imagine yourself in ballet class, dancing with Odette. Beautiful music is playing in the background-a Strauss waltz, maybe. Odette's movements are fluid and graceful. Your movements are gross and clumsy. You step on her feet time after time."

"Oops! Sorry, Odette."

"But suddenly, something strange and wonderful happens. You feel a change coming over your body. Your limbs are becoming leaner, more supple. Your neck is growing longer. Something is coming out of your skin. Feathers! Beautiful, gossamer feathers! Your feet are nimble and light. They go exactly where you wish them to go. You are no longer human, Binky. You have become...a swan!"

"I'm a swan!" Binky exulted.

"Yes, Binky, you're a swan! Now your movements are as fluid and graceful as Odette's. You can easily match her every maneuver. You are graceful. You are coordinated."

"I am graceful. I am coordinated."

"You and Odette are no longer two swans, but one. You think each other's thoughts. You feel each other's feelings. It's magic. It's heaven."

"I'm in heaven!"

"Okay, snap out of it."

Prunella snapped her fingers, and lucidity returned to Binky's eyes. "So, are we gonna do this, or what?" he asked impatiently.

"We're done."

"Huh?" Binky looked around the attic, then at himself. "I don't feel any different."

"You will," Prunella assured him. "Are you going to ballet class tonight?"

"Hey, that is tonight!" Binky recalled. "Thanks for reminding me. See you later."

As Binky hurried down the stairs, Prunella gazed after him longingly.

"Oh, Binky. Will the stars ever be right for us?"

* * *

Determined to put Prunella's hypnotic powers to the test, Binky changed into his ballet clothes and rushed to the studio. He was stretching his calf muscles on the bar as the other dancers and students filed in. Among them was Odette, who was delighted to see him present. 

"You came!" she gushed.

Feeling nervous, Binky thought it best not to talk.

"Do you remember all your old maneuvers?" the swan girl asked him.

He still had the usual butterflies in the stomach. Had the hypnosis failed?

As he anxiously glanced around at the mirrors on the walls, a strange thing happened. His reflections in the mirrors were suddenly replaced with images of a graceful swan.

"I'm a swan," he said to himself. "I am graceful. I am coordinated."

He was confident.

"Binky, why don't you..." Odette started to say.

Acting on impulse, Binky swept Odette into his arms and started to waltz with her.

"Wait!" she exclaimed. "I haven't stretched yet!"

The pair waltzed a little more, and then Binky lifted Odette from the floor, threw her into the air, and caught her on the way down.

Odette giggled. "Binky, you're amazing! But you really should let me stretch."

"Be quick about it," Binky urged her.

As the students and the ballet instructor went through their paces, Binky and Odette danced by themselves in another corner of the studio. An hour went by, and they were still dancing as rapturously as ever.

Then it happened.

While Binky tiptoed across the floor, carrying Odette in his arms, the swan images in the mirrors reverted to Binky's true form. Disenheartened, Binky stopped in his tracks-and dropped Odette.

"Ow!" cried the girl as she hit the floor. "What's the matter?"

"I...I...I can't do this!" Binky stuttered nervously.

"Yes, you can! You're an expert! Come on!"

But Binky would not be reassured.

Odette pursued him as he ran out of the studio. When he reached the sidewalk, he accidentally caught his foot in a grate, and had to ditch his shoe to escape.

The swan girl picked up the shoe and gazed at it unhappily.

Moments later, the still-frightened Binky burst through the door of his house.

"How was ballet class?" his mother asked.

"It was great, Mom," he replied. "I never want to go back."

He grumbled constantly to himself as he changed back into his street clothes. "What have I done? Now she'll be on me like a leech! Stupid hypnotism!"

He didn't know what to do. And when Binky Barnes didn't know what to do, he watched TV.

Fifteen minutes later, Binky was watching a cartoon when the doorbell rang. "Will you get that?" called his mother from another room.

He groaned and stood up.

Sure enough, Odette stood on the other end of the peephole, wearing a lovely dress, holding his lost ballet shoe in one hand.

"Just leave it on the porch and go!" he yelled through the door.

"I want to talk to you!" Odette yelled back.

Binky groaned again. He yanked open the door, turned his back, and walked to the other end of the room. "Start talking," he said gruffly.

"I don't get you, Binky," said Odette as she stepped inside and laid the shoe on the floor. "One minute you're dancing with me like you'll never dance again, the next you're turning your back on me."

"That wasn't really me," said Binky, still looking away from the girl. "I was pumped up by hypnotism."

"Hypnotism? Who hypnotized you?"

"Prunella."

"That charlatan? What were you thinking?"

"It didn't work very well, either."

Odette seated herself, gazed wistfully at Binky's backside, and said, "I don't know why a great dancer like you would want to hide his talent under a bushel."

"Maybe I just don't like ballet," said Binky flatly.

"That's not true and you know it."

"You're making me uncomfortable," Binky growled. "Please leave."

Silence greeted him. Then the sound of a girl crying. Touched emotionally, he turned around.

"Gosh, I'm sorry," he said meekly. "I shouldn't have said that."

Odette pulled a Kleenex from a nearby box and wiped her cheeks. "When you danced with me tonight, I thought you had changed," she said tearfully. "I thought you liked me. I was wrong."

A realization pierced Binky's thick skull. "You DO have a crush on me!"

"Ever since we first met," Odette admitted.

"I...I didn't know. I'm sorry. I..."

Binky suddenly noticed two very odd things. First, he was speaking normally to Odette without getting nervous. Second, his reflection in the dresser mirror had been replaced by the image of a graceful swan.

"The hypnosis!" he blurted out. "I'm a swan again!"

"What?"

Binky lit up like a torch. "Oh, man, I'd better tell you the truth before it wears off again! I have a crush on you too, Odette!"

"Really?"

"Ever since we first met! That's why I get so nervous when I see you. That's why I let myself be hypnotized. And I do want to dance with you again. I want to dance all night with you. But any minute now the spell's gonna wear off, and I'll turn into a puddle of nerves again."

Odette jumped to her feet. "In that case, let's make use of the time we have!"

Binky and Odette assumed a waltz position, but it was too late. The swan image in the mirror changed back to Binky's reflection. He groaned and backed away from Odette.

"I'm sorry...I...I can't..."

Binky collapsed on the couch. Odette approached him and put a hand on his shoulder, but he turned and faced away from her.

"It's all right," she said, withdrawing her hand. "We'll go at your speed."

As she was about to walk through the door, she swiveled. "Next lesson's on Friday," she told Binky. "I'll see you then."

"Uh-huh," the boy muttered.

* * *

The next morning, Mrs. Read came up from the laundry room with news for Arthur and D.W., who were preparing for school. 

"Carla called me last night," she announced. "She and Nigel are going to Costa Rica next week to meet her parents."

"That didn't take long," Arthur marveled.

"And Sue Ellen will be staying with us!"

D.W. cheered. "Yay! She's so cool!"

Arthur's reaction was one of indifference, with a hint of concern. "What is it?" his mother asked.

"Why isn't she going with them?"

"You'll have to ask her that yourself," said Mrs. Read.

She then answered a ring of the doorbell. The visitors turned out to be Nadine, the new girl in D.W.'s class, and her mother, Maria.

"Come in, Mrs. Harris. Hello, Nadine."

"Hi, Mrs. Read. D.W.!"

"Nadine! Let's play!"

Within a split second, two happy little girls were frolicking in D.W.'s room.

"Be back down in ten minutes," Mrs. Read called after them.

"You'll have to yell louder than that to get her to mind," said Mrs. Harris as she took a seat.

"So you're Nadine's mother," said Mrs. Read.

"When I have time to be."

"And her father?"

"No longer with us."

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

"No, he's not dead. But he doesn't pay child support, so he may as well be."

"Where do you work?"

"I'm a clerk at a jewelry store."

"Which one?"

"Stephanie's."

"Really?" Mrs. Read's face lit up. "That's where we got our wedding rings!"

"I haven't been there for long."

"If you're not offended by my saying this, I don't think I've ever met someone with a tail before."

"Oh, that thing?" Mrs. Harris wagged her tail. "Only the women in the family get them. We're a dying breed. It's not good for much, except swatting people who make rude comments about it."

"Then why not have it removed?"

"That was rude." She swatted Mrs. Read with her tail.

As D.W. and Nadine played with their troll dolls, Nadine excused herself to the bathroom. Once she had closed the door behind her, there was a flash of light nearby, and Pickles, an anthropomorphic Pomeranian wearing a pink dress, faded into view.

"Report, Nadine," said Pickles, who spoke with a little girl's voice.

"The plan is going smoothly, Pickles. The girl has adjusted to my presence. She suspects nothing."

"Excellent," said the Pomeranian.

"Are the troops assembled?" Nadine asked.

"Affirmative," Pickles gloated. "The invasion will proceed on schedule. Soon the real world will be in our power! Muwahaha..."

"Shh!" Nadine quieted her.

"Sorry," said Pickles, and she disappeared in another flash of light.

* * *

Shortly after school, several of the kids met at the Sugar Bowl. Among them were Van and Binky. 

"Did you try getting hypnotized again?" Van asked his friend.

"No, I'm just gonna work this out myself," said Binky. "This hypnotism stuff creeps me out. I still see a swan in the mirror every now and then."

Elsewhere, Fern, Buster, and Muffy shared a table.

"Did your mom ground you, Fern?" asked Buster.

"Worse," Fern related. "She took away my computer privileges for a week."

"Oh, that's harsh."

"I'm sorry I got the two of you involved in this."

"It's okay," said Muffy. "I care about Mrs. Stiles too."

"I still don't understand why she wants to keep it a secret from everyone," Fern mused. "Lots of people get hooked on prescription drugs, and they're the kind of people who would never use illegal drugs."

"Maybe she's hiding something else," Buster suggested. "Like, a deep, dark secret."

"You're just paranoid," said Fern.

"Paranoid is the way to be. Haven't you heard of Baxter's Corollary to Murphy's Law? 'If you think they're out to get you, they are.'"

"Oh, brother."

"He does have a point," said Muffy. "What do we really know about Mrs. Stiles? She was in Hollywood. Who knows what she was mixed up with? And why haven't we met her husband?"

"Listen to yourself!" Fern scolded her. "This is just what she was afraid of. First we learn about her drug problem, then we start jumping to conclusions about what kind of person she is. As far as I'm concerned, she's just a good woman who made a bad choice."

_At least I hope so_, she thought.

TBC


	5. The Cat Who Came to Dinner

(Author's note: Pal and Kate talk in this chapter. If you hate it when Pal and Kate talk, run away now!)

Sue Ellen came to stay with the Reads the very next day, as her nanny traveled to Costa Rica with Nigel Ratburn, her new boyfriend.

Baby Kate sat on the couch between Arthur and Sue Ellen, watching TV. Pal lay at their feet, gazing idly up at the screen. "We now return to Laura Cleft, Crypt Robber!" said the TV announcer.

In one of the darkest regions of Africa, crusading archaeologist Laura Cleft, a well-built cat woman clad in Indiana Jones-style archaeological gear, stood by the entrance to an underground tomb. Next to her stood a native guide dressed in tribal garb.

"I go no further," said the guide in halting English. "Legend say that terrible curse come on all who enter tomb of vampire king Nugupuku."

"Curse, schmurse," said Laura mockingly. "What are you afraid of? You're already a man."

Sue Ellen laughed. "I don't get it," said Arthur.

"Goo goo boo boo Africa baa baa," said Sue Ellen.

"Gurgle gurgle gaa gaa," said Arthur.

"I hate these stereotyped African characters," Pal remarked. "Don't you, Kate?"

"I don't know," said Kate. "I haven't been to Africa. The orange-haired girl uses the word Africa a lot. Maybe she's been there."

"It's good that the humans are starting to use words," said Pal. "Maybe someday we'll be able to understand them."

As Laura Cleft explored the underground crypt, a coffin opened in front of her. From it rose a vampire in a ragged robe. "I am king Nugupuku," it intoned in a deep bass voice. "I want to suck your blood."

"Suck _this!_" yelled Laura, delivering a powerful karate punch to the vampire's face. To her dismay, the creature wasn't even fazed by the blow.

"Kate, what do you call that thing humans do with their fists?" Pal asked.

"It's called hitting," Kate replied. "I think they do it to show how much they love each other."

Then Mrs. Read walked into the room. Lifting Kate into her arms, she said, "You shouldn't be watching such violent shows at your age."

Kate waved at Pal as her mother carried her into the kitchen. "Tell me how it ends," she urged the dog.

On the TV screen, Laura Cleft was executing acrobatic leaps and flips to escape the clutches of a horde of zombies. "I've decided I want to be an archaeologist when I grow up," said Sue Ellen.

"I'll bet it's not as cool as this show," said Arthur. "No vampires or zombies."

"True. It's mostly digging in the dirt for days without finding anything. But the occasional vampire or zombie makes it worthwhile."

Laura Cleft dangled from the top of a crumbling wall as zombies swarmed upon her from every direction. Suddenly the words 'To Be Continued' appeared on the screen.

"Not another cliffhanger," Sue Ellen grumbled. "This show is nothing but cliffhangers. Even the Christmas episode was a cliffhanger."

"It's gonna be a long week," said Arthur impatiently.

"I'm glad you like this show, Arthur," said Sue Ellen sweetly. "The other kids who've seen it think it's the dorkiest show in the universe."

"So what do you want to do now?" asked Arthur.

"Normally I would be getting ready for my yoga lesson. But I'm still officially grounded by Carla, and I think your mom intends to honor that."

"I guess I'll go and play with my new little sister." Walking to the base of the stairway, she called, "Hey, D.W., come down to my bedroom!"

"Coming!" D.W. shouted eagerly.

While the two girls enjoyed themselves, Arthur wandered into the kitchen to find his mother feeding Kate and his father laying hors-doeuvres on a tray.

"Hi, Mom," he said, sitting next to his mother. "I just watched the dorkiest show in the universe."

"If it's so dorky, then why did you watch it?" asked Mrs. Read.

"Because Sue Ellen likes it."

"You don't have to do everything that she likes."

"I know," said Arthur, "but with her parents and Carla gone, there's nobody around who likes the same things she likes."

The doorbell rang, and Arthur opens the door to find the heavily breathing Buster staring at him.

"Arthur! I ran over here as soon as Harry told me the news!"

"The news?" The implications flooded Arthur's brain. "You mean..."

Arthur's parents listened attentively.

"He got the job!"

"Awesome!" exclaimed Arthur.

"Buster, that's fantastic!" said Mrs. Read.

"That means you'll be moving to Chicago," Mr. Read noted.

"Can you believe it, Arthur? After all these years I'm saying goodbye to Elwood City."

"I'm gonna miss you," said Arthur to his rabbit pal. "Will you write me every week?"

"You know I will. I'll send postcards, too."

"I've got extra cream puffs if you're hungry," Mr. Read told Buster.

"I'm always hungry," said the boy as he began to scarf down one puff after another.

Mrs. Read shook her head. "You rabbit boys and your high metabolisms."

"Come on," Arthur urged Buster. "Let's tell D.W. and Sue Ellen."

Buster became nervous. "Sue Ellen's here?"

"Yeah, she's been here for an hour."

"Is she, uh, doing any weird stuff? Like spray-painting mirrors?"

"No, she's fine. She's already apologized three times for licking my glasses."

In the guest bedroom, D.W. and Sue Ellen were sitting on the floor in lotus positions, doing yoga exercises.

"Now breathe in..." Sue Ellen instructed.

D.W. took a long, slow breath.

"And breathe out..."

As D.W. exhaled, a knock came at the door.

"Come in," said Sue Ellen, and the two boys stepped inside. "Oh, hi, Buster. I've been meaning to apologize for..."

"Harry got the job!" Buster exulted. "We're going to Chicago!"

"Wonderful! That means you're leaving us!" Sue Ellen caught herself. "Wait, that didn't come out right."

"Where's Chicago?" asked D.W.

Buster noticed that Sue Ellen had decorated the guest bedroom with travel posters on the walls and various exotic knick-knacks on the desk. "I see you've made yourself at home." He picked up a small stone figure. "What's this thing?"

"It's a Zuni fetish. I picked it up in New Mexico. It's supposed to bring good luck."

"Does it work?"

"Well, since I got it, my diary burned and my parents went to Indonesia without me, so I'd have to say no. But it makes a nice paperweight."

"Where's Chicago?" D.W. asked again.

"How soon are you moving?" Sue Ellen asked Buster.

"A month after the wedding."

"That's not much time," Arthur remarked.

"Where's Chicago?" D.W. asked once more.

When Buster returned home after visiting Arthur, he found Bitzi and her fiance Harry on the couch, discussing their upcoming move.

"I'd prefer to live in the suburbs and take the train into the city," said Bitzi.

"Mom, Harry, I'm back," Buster greeted them.

"Hey, slugger," said Harry.

"I told Arthur, Sue Ellen, and Francine the news," Buster reported.

"Did Sue Ellen do anything to your ears?" asked his mother.

"No, she's okay now. She's gotten over the alien possession thing."

Buster's statement led Bitzi and Harry to exchange serious looks.

"Have a seat," said Harry. Which in Buster's ears sounded like, "Get ready for a long-winded lecture about a boring subject."

When he had seated himself, Harry began, "Now that we're about to move to another city, we need to consider a lot of things. One thing is, you don't know what kind of kids you'll meet at the schools there."

"They'll be a lot like the kids here, right?" said Buster hopefully.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"I understand what Harry's trying to say," Bitzi interjected. "Buster, do you remember when Sue Ellen moved in, and you thought she and her family were aliens?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"When we go to Chicago, you'll be a new kid at school, just like she was. Now imagine if you start talking to all the kids at your new school about space aliens. What will they think of you?"

"Uh, they'll think I'm an alien?"

"They may think you're weird."

"But my friends here don't think I'm weird," Buster pointed out.

"That's because they've known you for a long time," said Bitzi.

"When I was a kid," said Harry, "I liked reading science fiction books. But to me it was just entertainment. I never believed that aliens would come and visit me."

"You didn't?" said Buster with surprise.

"It's just not a possibility, Buster. It would take an alien spaceship millions of years to reach Earth, even if the aliens could find Earth in the first place."

"Whoa," said Buster.

Begin Buster fantasy sequence.

Through the depths of space hurtles a ship carrying two alien parents and their kids, a boy and a girl.

"Are we there yet?" asked the kids.

"No, not yet," said the father.

"Are we there yet?" the kids asked again.

"Not yet, kids," said the mother.

"I have to go," said the alien girl.

"The next rest stop's not for another fifty light years," said the father.

Some time passed, during which the alien kids grew about a foot in height.

"Are we there yet?" asked the kids.

"I'll tell you when we're close," said the mother.

"Are we there yet?" the kids asked again.

"D'oh!" grunted the father.

More time passed, and the alien kids became alien teenagers.

"Mom, look what I found floating in space," said the alien boy, holding a bumper sticker with the message 'I Love Earth'.

"Decontaminate it and put it with the others," said the mother.

End Buster fantasy sequence.

"Millions of years," Buster mused. "Is space really that big?"

"Space is huge," said Harry. "Have you heard of Einstein's Theory of Relativity?"

"Yeah," said Buster. "Alan tried to explain it to me once."

"According to Einstein, a spaceship can't go faster than the speed of light. And light can take millions of years to go from one planet to another. Not only that, but there are probably millions of planets with intelligent life, and billions more that don't have life. So you see, Buster, there's just no chance of aliens visiting Earth."

Buster turned to his mother. "What do you think?"

"Harry's right," said Bitzi.

When both his mother and his father-to-be agreed on something, Buster knew it had to be right. The universe rapidly shrank around the increasingly dejected rabbit boy.

When Arthur and Sue Ellen arrived together at Lakewood the following Monday, Francine and Muffy were the first to greet them. Francine's arm cast was gone, but her arm was still in a sling.

"Look at the happy couple," said Francine jokingly.

"Do I hear wedding bells?" said Muffy. "Do you need a planner?"

"It's just the ringing in your head, Muffy," quipped Arthur.

Congratulations on losing the cast," Sue Ellen said to Francine.

"Thanks," said Francine. "After about a week of physical therapy, I should be ready to play sports again."

After Arthur and Sue Ellen had walked off, Muffy started to joke with Francine. "Better get on the ball. Sue Ellen's stealing your boyfriend."

"My boyfriend?" Francine replied sharply. "I thought he was your boyfriend."

"Not even," said Muffy.

"I've never had feelings for Arthur," Francine insisted. To me, he's just one of the girls."

Buster walked by the two girls, his ears sagging from depression.

"Gosh, he looks blue," Muffy remarked.

"He must have skipped a meal or something," Francine surmised.

When Mr. Wald called the roll that morning, something happened which he didn't expect.

"Susan Ellen Armstrong."

"Here," Sue Ellen piped up.

"You?" said the teacher facetiously. "But you don't sound at all like me."

The kids chuckled as Sue Ellen tried to figure out what Mr. Wald had meant.

"Clark Philip Barnes."

"Here."

"Buster Cletis Baxter."

The glum-looking Buster raised one of his ears to signal his presence.

At the end of the period Mr. Wald assigned a piece of homework. "For Wednesday, I would like you all to write a two-page paper about the most embarrassing moment in your life. You'll then give your paper to another student, who will read it out loud to the entire class. Dismissed." As Sue Ellen rose from her desk, he said, "Miss Armstrong, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Arthur and Francine looked back toward the classroom as they left. "I wonder what he wants Sue Ellen for," said Francine.

"He probably just wants to get to know her," said Arthur.

"You're certainly getting to know her."

"Yeah, well, that's kinda hard to avoid when she's living in my house."

"Some of us are going to the movies tonight," Francine informed him. "It's _101 Chihuahuas_. Do you want to come?"

"I'd love to, but I can't," Arthur replied. "Sue Ellen and I are going to the new World Art Museum."

Elsewhere, Buster was sharing his disappointment with Alan. "Am I the only kid in the whole school who believes in aliens?" he inquired.

"There are two others," said Alan, "but I'm making progress with them."

In art class, Arthur admired Sue Ellen's painting. "It's beautiful! What is it?"

"Sunset on the Serengeti," the girl replied.

In another corner of the art room, Buster was inspecting Alan's handiwork-an image of a muscular, toga-clad man in the act of pushing a boulder up the side of a mountain.

"Who's that supposed to be?" he asked.

"Sisyphus."

"Who?"

"Remember when Mrs. Stiles had us write a report on a Greek myth?" Alan reminded him. "I wrote about the myth of Sisyphus. This painting shows him pushing a boulder up the side of a mountain."

"What's so exciting about that?" asked Buster.

"Nothing," said Alan. "That's the point. Every time he got near the top of the mountain he lost control of the boulder, and it rolled back to the bottom. And he had to do it again and again, forever and ever, as a punishment from the gods."

"Sounds like homework," Buster remarked. "You do your homework and turn it in, and the next day you get more homework. The same thing, day after day after day. What do they do with the stuff?"

Alan shrugged.

Buster wandered over to Beat's easel, where the British girl is painting a picture similar to Alan's, only cruder and from a different angle.

"Hi, Buster," she greeted him. "This is a painting of..."

"Don't tell me," Buster stopped her. "It's the same Sissyface guy Alan's painting."

"Sisyphus, you silly goose. Alan and I both wrote reports on him. As they say, great minds think alike."

Then Buster went back to his own easel and stared gloomily at his own magnum opus, a series of concentric, multicolored circles.

He imagined himself in the middle of a barren desert, punctuated only by a series of steep hills. A fearsome-looking man wearing a cowboy hat towered over him. "What's your name, boy?" the man growled.

"Buster Retsub, Mr. Sir," said Buster nervously.

"Do you understand why you're here, Mr. Retsub?"

"No, Mr. Sir."

"You're here to build character." The man gestured toward one of the hills, at the base of which lay a large boulder. "We take a bad boy, make him push a boulder up a hill in the hot sun all day, and it turns him into a good boy. That's our philosophy here at Camp Sissyface."

At the Elwood cineplex, Francine, Muffy, Fern, Binky, Alan, and Van were enjoying the new movie _101 Chihuahuas_. On the screen appeared the big-haired villainess Creepella D. Evil, clad in a wool coat instead of her usual furs, speaking to a crowd. To each side of her stood animal-rights activists holding signs with the slogan 'Fur is Dead'.

"I admit that I was once obsessed with furs," Creepella told the audience. "I worshipped furs. I had no idea of the pain I was causing to our animal equals. I had to learn the hard way, through years of incarceration. But now I have seen the light!"

"Do you think she's really changed this time?" Muffy whispered to Francine.

"Don't count on it," Francine whispered back.

Sure enough, in the very next scene, Creepella was doling out orders to her two bumbling henchmen, George and Lenny. "No Dalmatians this time. Or Shih Tzus. Or St. Bernards. I'm in a Mexican mood. Yo quiero chihuahuas!" George and Lenny gave her a blank stare. "I want chihuahuas, you imbeciles!"

"How many do you want, boss?" asked George.

"What's the title of this movie?" replied Creepella.

"Comin' right up, boss," said George. "C'mon, Lenny."

"Duh, tell me about the puppies, George," said Lenny.

"That was a pretty funny movie," said Binky as the end credits rolled and the kids exited the theater.

"Yeah," said Alan, "but I've seen it three or four times already, only with different dog breeds."

"Too bad Arthur couldn't see it with us," said Francine.

"I'm sure he's having a good time with his new girlfriend," said Muffy.

At that moment Arthur was playing the piano, and Sue Ellen the saxophone, in a lively jazz duet. Attracted by the rhythmic music, D.W. came to investigate.

"What are you playing, Arthur?" she asked.

"Jazz," Arthur answered.

"What's jazz?"

"If you have to ask, you'll never know."

Nearby, Pal was clutching his ears with his paws. "What is this cacophonous racket?" he complained.

"I think they call it music," said Kate, who sat on the floor next to the dog.

"'Crazy Bus' is music," said Pal with disgust. "This is _not_ music!"

"Think about it," Buster said to his mother. "Somewhere in this big universe there are aliens who have the answers to all our questions. The solutions to all our problems. Maybe even the secret to immortality. But they don't know we exist, and they'll never find us. At least not in my lifetime."

"If you want to know what I think," said Bitzi, "the aliens are probably just as lost and messed up as we are."

Buster's face fell. "Oh, man. What if they are?"

"For all we know, we could be the most advanced race in the universe," Bitzi suggested.

"So maybe the aliens don't have the answers," Buster pondered. "Maybe there are no answers. Maybe we're here for no other reason but to eat, sleep, do homework, eat, grow old, die, and eat."

Bitzi nodded. "Maybe so."

At Beat's apartment, Mrs. Simon was writing another novel on the computer when Francine, Muffy, and Fern arrived to pay Beat a visit. The British girl was wearing her reading glasses when she opened the door for the girls to enter.

"Hi, Beat," said Fern. "You wear glasses?"

"Just to read," said Beat. "How was the movie?"

"Pretty good," said Muffy. "Too bad you missed it."

"I lost interest in the franchise after the first three sequels," Beat admitted.

"We've got fresh crumpets, girls," said Mrs. Simon. "Help yourselves. Francine, how's that fantasy story coming along?"

"I'm still working on it. You know how long it takes me to write with my left hand."

"You're writing a fantasy story?" Muffy marveled.

"Yeah," said Francine. "I figure if I don't get an athletic scholarship, maybe I can write fantasy books."

"Get the athletic scholarship," Mrs. Simon recommended.

After helping themselves to crumpets, the girls retired to Beat's bedroom. The room was decorated with posters featuring sites in England and famous soccer players. Numerous books graced the shelves, everything from Henry Skreever to Machiavelli. On Beat's desk sat a computer.

"For our first order of business," said Muffy, "we need to start planning Buster's going-away party."

"Isn't it a little early?" Fern remarked. "He's not moving for another six weeks."

"Yeah, but the Red Room at the Elwood Mairzydoats Hotel has to be booked a month in advance."

"I'd prefer something simpler," said Francine.

"Econo Lodge doesn't have convention rooms," Muffy reminded her.

"He looked so sad today," said Beat. "I suggest we do something right away to cheer him up."

"Why don't you buy him something?" Fern asked Muffy. "That always works."

"I'll bet he would love chocolates," Muffy mused.

"Where's Sue Ellen tonight?" Beat wondered.

"In case you haven't noticed," said Francine, "she and Arthur have become Siamese twins."

"And in case you haven't noticed," Muffy added, "Francine's jealous."

"I am not!" Francine retorted.

"You sure sound jealous," said Fern.

"Okay, maybe I'm a little jealous. But it's not because I'm in love with him or anything."

"Sure, Francine," said Muffy mockingly. "We believe you."

"He's been glued to her all weekend!" Francine complained. "Whenever I want to do something with him, it's always, 'I'm going to the art museum with Sue Ellen', or 'I'm going to the Afghan restaurant with Sue Ellen', or 'I'm going to the international cinema with Sue Ellen'."

"I can't blame him," said Beat. "Sue Ellen is, as you Americans say, a cool person."

"And I'm not."

"I'm not saying that."

"I know," said Francine darkly. "I'm saying it. Let's face it. Sue Ellen's the daughter of an international diplomat, and I'm the daughter of a garbage man. She's been all over the world, and I haven't even been out of the state. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"What you need is a new image," said Muffy.

"Huh?"

"You're right. Boys are attracted to the exotic, the mysterious, the unknown."

"The 'unknown' part is easy."

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Muffy. "There's a great clothing store in Crown City that sells fashions from all over the world."

"Uh, Muffy," said Francine, "I'm talking about competing with Sue Ellen, not with her mom."

"How about learning a new language?" Muffy suggested.

"Which one?"

"French, of course. It's the language of romance."

"I don't need a language of romance," said Francine sharply. "I just need a language of getting my friend back."

After returning home from school the next day, Francine sat on the couch in her apartment, as her cat Nemo purred in her lap. Again and again she thought of ways to discuss with Arthur her discomfort over losing him to Sue Ellen, but again and again she dismissed them.

"'Arthur, some of your friends are jealous of all the time you're spending with Sue Ellen.' No, not specific enough. 'Arthur, I thought we had an unspoken agreement that I was the girl you did things with.' No, too legal. 'It's either her or me. You can't have us both.' No, too blunt."

To her surprise, Arthur suddenly appeared unbidden in the doorway to the apartment, holding Pal on a leash. "Oh, hi, Arthur," she said uneasily. "Come in."

"I was walking Pal, and I thought I'd drop by," said the aardvark boy.

At the sight of Pal, Nemo hopped out of Francine's lap and started rubbing against him affectionately.

Understandably, this made Pal suspicious. "You're being friendly, Nemo. What are you up to?"

"I'm not up to anything," said the cat. "I just think it's about time we put our differences behind us."

The gibberish-speaking Arthur reached down and released Pal from his leash. "Now that you're a free dog again," said Nemo, "I have something I'm sure you'll love to see."

"Not another hairball," said Pal in disgust.

"I haven't had any hairballs since I started taking that horrible-tasting medicine. Now follow me."

"This had better be worth my time," said Pal as he followed Nemo into the kitchen

The cramped space behind the refrigerator shouldn't have been large enough for both of them, but when Pal squeezed into it, he suddenly found himself and Nemo in what appears to be a secret corridor.

"Where are we?" asked Pal.

"The girl knows nothing about this place," said Nemo with pride.

Pal was overwhelmed by curiosity, which, as far as he knew, was only fatal to cats. Following Nemo through the secret corridor, he was led into a large room full of scientific equipment. In the center of the room stood a device, attached to a swivel base, that resembled a futuristic laser weapon. The sight was more than he could believe.

"Technology?" Pal marveled. "But...but how? You're a cat!"

"I am no ordinary cat," said Nemo haughtily. "I have powers and abilities beyond those of normal felines."

"That device looks like some sort of weapon," Pal remarked.

"That's what it is," said Nemo as he rubbed his neck against the base of the device. "A weapon of peace. You see, I have known for a long time that war between my species and your species is inevitable. Being a cat of peace, I wish for the conflict to be settled in the least violent manner possible. On the other hand, being a cat, I also wish to ensure victory for my side."

"You're losing me," said Pal.

"Let me put it this way," Nemo went on. "When I said I wanted to put our differences behind us, I meant that quite literally."

While Pal puzzled over the meaning of those words, Nemo emitted magnetic rays from his eyes, which enveloped the weapon and cause it to turn around—until its muzzle was pointed directly at Pal.

"What are you doing, Nemo?" Pal demanded.

"Do not call me by that name," the cat commanded. "For I am...MAGNEMO!"

Before Pal could open his mouth again, the weapon activated, discharging an energy beam that struck him between the eyes. A weird sensation overpowered him, followed swiftly by unconsciousness.

As Nemo watched with satisfaction, the dog began to change shape.

"Welcome to the future...brother!"

Unaware of what was transpiring in Nemo's lab, Arthur and Francine continued their conversation. "Sure, I'd love to play the drums in your quartet," said Francine. "My arm should be fully functional again in a few days."

"I'm also trying to bring Alan on board," said Arthur. "He plays the bass. And Fern said she'd love to sing with us. And Muffy..."

"...smelled a sure thing and asked to be your manager," Francine completed his sentence.

"Yeah."

"I think it's a great idea," said Francine. "Maybe it'll go farther than U Stink."

"We can always hope."

Francine adopted a serious tone. "Arthur, I've got a question for you, and I want an honest answer."

"Go ahead."

"Do you think Sue Ellen is more interesting than me?"

Arthur didn't know what to say, as he had never actually compared the two girls in his mind.

"Well?"

"Uh, in some ways she is, and in some ways she isn't."

"You've been doing everything with her lately," Francine complained. "I know she's staying at your house, but still..."

"Oh, I understand. I'm not doing enough things with you, am I?"

"Why is that?" Francine asked earnestly.

"Well, you see, Sue Ellen is basically an orphan this week. Her parents are gone, her nanny's gone..."

"So?"

"So I thought she could use a friend who would do the same things she does. For a week, anyway."

"Do you like doing the same things she does?"

"Some of the stuff she does is okay."

Francine peered at him, as if wondering if she should ask for a more detailed answer.

"It's only for a week," Arthur explained. "Then things will be back to normal." Believing he had placated Francine, he looked around the apartment. "Where's Pal?"

"He's probably out chasing Nemo," said Francine.

Arthur ventured into the hallway outside of Francine's apartment, but he didn't see Pal. However, to his dismay, he saw Pal's collar. Puzzled, he picked it up and scrutinized it.

"Pal! Come here, boy!" he called out. Nothing happened.

"I didn't hear him leave," said Francine as she walked up to him. "He's probably still inside." At her feet, Nemo sat on his haunches with a sinister grin on his face.

"Then what's his collar doing out here?" Arthur wondered.

"Maybe Creepella D. Evil got him," Francine joked.

"No, then there would be Creepella hairs all over the carpet."

"Let's go check under the beds," suggested Francine, and she and Arthur returned to the apartment.

But they searched in vain, because Pal was nowhere near the apartment building. He was, at that moment, racing down the sidewalk in front of the Molina house, terrified beyond all reason.

The Molinas' dog saw him pass by and rushed toward him. "Amigo!" exclaimed Pal. "Am I glad to see you!"

But Amigo's reception was anything but friendly. Barking and snapping, he charged at Pal, who barely managed to leap out of his way. "Amigo, it's me, Pal!" he cried out, but the neighbor dog turned around and rushed at him again.

Sensing he was in mortal danger, Pal bounded away. He knew that his only safety was in the environs of his own house, but his instincts betrayed him, and he impulsively hurried toward the nearest tree...

...and effortlessly scaled it.

For Pal was now a cat.

As Amigo barked uselessly at him, Pal crept over the limbs of the tree until he managed to cross over the fence separating the Reads and the Molinas. Remembering something about cats always landing on their feet, he bravely jumped to the ground. A fall that might have killed him as a dog only caused him mild strain as a cat.

"I must find Kate," he told himself. "It's my only hope."

Through the dog door he ran, up the stairway and into the room shared by D.W. and Kate. Finding the baby asleep in the crib, Pal pressed his front paws against the netting and called to her. "Kate! Wake up!"

Kate slowly opened her eyes. "Wha...? Pal?" she said groggily.

However, the creature facing her through the mesh didn't look like Pal at all.

"You're not Pal!" Kate cried in terror. "WAAAAAH!"

"Stop crying!" Pal pleaded. "Listen to me! Nemo has a weapon that turns dogs into cats! I think he intends to unleash it on the world!"

Kate's wailing turned into a whimpering, then she fell silent.

"It's your voice, but it's not you," she marveled. "How did this happen?"

A flushing sound was heard from the bathroom.

"There's no time!" shouted Pal. "Kate, you must get help! Nemo is dangerous and evil!"

Before he had a chance to elaborate further, Mrs. Read stepped into the room. Seeing a strange cat near her baby's crib, she lurched forward and grabbed Pal around the waist. "Bad kitty!" she scolded. "Leave my baby alone!"

"Meeoooowwrr!" shrieked Pal. He couldn't believe the sound had come from his own mouth.

As Mrs. Read started to carry the strange cat away from Kate, both he and the baby realized one fateful truth. Pal wasn't wearing a collar. He would be taken to the pound...

* * *

The next morning, Buster remained in bed longer than he should have. "You'd better get ready for school," his mother admonished him. 

"I don't want to go to school," Buster moaned.

"You have to go to school, honey," Bitzi reminded him.

"Why?" the boy grumbled. "What's the point? It's just the same old homework, day after day after day."

"Yes, but if your grades are high enough, you can go to a good college."

"But that's just more homework."

"And after college, you can have a rewarding career. Like mine."

"Big deal."

"You're only nine years old," said Bitzi earnestly. "You're much too young for a mid-life crisis."

"A what?"

"Some people, as they get older, start to question whether their lives have any purpose."

"Like I'm doing now."

"Yes. And it's often the result of some terrible disappointment. In your case, it's because of the things Harry and I told you about aliens."

"So you think I'm having one of these mid-life things."

"It happens to a lot of people. It hasn't happened to me yet. I'm still young and attractive. Now would you please get out of bed and get ready for school?"

"I don't know..."

"Would you rather lie in bed and do nothing all day?"

"Uh, yes."

"Do you want to do nothing all day tomorrow?"

"I think so."

"Do you want to do nothing for the rest of your life?"

Buster rolled over and looked at his mother. "Hmm, I hadn't thought that far ahead."

"You mentioned that Greek fellow who had to push a rock up and down a hill. At least he had something to do. He could have sat at the bottom of the hill and done nothing, but he would have been bored."

"Doing nothing is easier than pushing a rock," Buster pointed out.

"I'll tell you what you can do," said Bitzi. "After school, you can help Arthur look for his dog."

Buster sat up abruptly. "Arthur lost his dog?"

"Yes, he's been missing since yesterday."

His spirits renewed, Buster climbed out of bed. "I can't let Arthur down," he said with determination. "Sissyface is back in the game."

* * *

After school, Arthur and Buster went to various locations in the neighborhood, including the library, the grocery store, and the Sugar Bowl, putting up lost dog posters with pictures of Pal on them. While they were out, Sue Ellen sat on the bed in the Read guest bedroom, writing in her journal. 

"Dear Diary. Arthur's dog is still lost. Buster didn't look sad today. In school we all shared our most embarrassing moments. My most embarrassing moment would be if Arthur found out how I really feel about him."

While she wrote, D.W. walked into the guest bedroom. Upon seeing her, Sue Ellen closed her diary, leaving the pen inside to mark the current page.

"Can I look at your postcards now?" D.W. requested.

"Sure," Sue Ellen answered.

Leaving her diary on the bed, she went to the desk and started to sort through several stacks of postcards. While her back was turned, D.W. sneaked over to the bed and opened the diary to the page where Sue Ellen had been writing.

Having made a stack of postcards for D.W. to view, Sue Ellen turned around...and gasped. "Don't read that!" she cried, lunging at the diary and closing it. The postcards fell from her hand and scattered on the floor.

Her heart was still pounding as she clutched the book to her chest. "What did you see?" she demanded to know.

"I can't read," said D.W. incredulously. "Yeesh! Don't have kittens."

Sue Ellen breathed a sigh of relief and started gathering up the fallen postcards. Then Mrs. Read's voice was heard.

"D.W.! Nadine's here!"

"Nadine! Nadine!" exclaimed D.W., scurrying out of the guest bedroom.

Moments later, D.W. was in her room playing with Nadine Harris. "I've got a secret," she said gleefully.

"What is it?" asked Nadine. "Will you tell me?"

"Not yet. I'm gonna tell Arthur first."

"I have a secret too."

"Can I hear it?"

"I don't think you can keep it."

"Yes, I can."

"But you just said you were gonna tell Arthur your secret."

"That's because it's a secret about Arthur."

Nadine thought for a second, then giggled.

"I gotta go to the bathroom," said D.W.

While Nadine was alone in the room, her imaginary friend Pickles the Pomeranian friend appeared in a puff of light.

"You've established quite a rapport with the girl," said the little pom.

"What's a rapport?" asked Nadine. "Why do you know so many words that I don't know?"

"I have secrets too," said Pickles sinisterly.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, but I don't have to answer."

"What will happen to D.W. and my mom when your people take over the world?"

Pickes' expression darkened. "That all depends on how well you do your job."

Needless to say, her answer didn't satisfy Nadine.

"I have a secret for you," said Pickles. "You must guard it with your life."

"I'm listening."

"The invasion will take place on the day you call Halloween."

"I won't tell anybody," Nadine promised.

"At last we will reveal ourselves to the real people," Pickles gloated. "At last we will have our revenge!" With that, she twinkled away.

Before long, Arthur and Buster returned after having searched the neighborhood in vain for Pal. While Buster wandered off to watch TV, D.W. motioned for Arthur to follow him. He did so, and she led him down the stairs into the laundry room.

"What do you want?"

"I've got a secret, I've got a secret..." said D.W. mockingly.

"Is it a good one?"

"Someone's in love with you."

Arthur shuddered. "Maybe it's better if I don't know."

"Too late," said D.W. "It's Sue Ellen."

"What?" Arthur exclaimed in surprise.

"I saw it in her diary," said D.W.

"But you can't read."

"I can read some things. Like 'Arthur' and 'I love you'."

"She let you look in her diary?" Arthur marveled.

"Not really," D.W. admitted. "I looked in it when she had her back turned. She wrote 'Arthur, I love you' all over the place." She pointed into the air. "Here, and here, and here..."

"You're making this up."

"Would I lie to you about something like this? Yeesh! I'm your sister. Your own flesh and blood."

Worry crept into Arthur's expression.

"Don't go spreading this around," he cautioned his sister. "This is between you and me."

"Sprout's honor," said D.W.

Later that evening, Arthur and Sue Ellen played a game of go in the guest bedroom. "You're getting good at this game," Sue Ellen complemented the boy.

"Thanks," said Arthur.

"I've been thinking," said Sue Ellen wistfully. "Maybe I was wrong to want to go to Indonesia."

"It sounds like an exciting place."

"Sure, but Elwood City's nice too. And I have so many great friends here."

"Friends are good," said Arthur glibly.

"And I'll bet the boys in Indonesia aren't as nice as you."

Arthur's eyes widened with shock.

"Are you okay?"

"Omigosh," thought Arthur. "What if D.W. was telling the truth? What if I've been_too_ nice to Sue Ellen?"

"I'm fine," Arthur lied.

"It's your move," said Sue Ellen.

As Arthur reached for a stone, he heard a bolt of thunder in the distance. "Sounds like a storm's coming," he remarked.

He went to bed immediately after losing the game to Sue Ellen. A powerful storm brewed outside, and the thunder and lightning made him restless.

As he tossed and turned, the frightened voice of a little girl called to him from the doorway. "I'm scared, Arthur. Can I get in bed with you?"

"Sure, go ahead," said the boy without thinking twice.

He lay still as the little girl pushed aside the quilt and rested her body on the mattress. Then he felt curly hair pressing against his cheek. He looked to his side.

It wasn't D.W. It was Sue Ellen!

"AAAAAARGH!"

Arthur bolted upright. Checking the other half of his bed, he found to his relief that no one was there. It had been a dream.

"It's gonna be a long night," he thought.

* * *

The next school day was not an easy one for Arthur. He had never before tried to read anything into Sue Ellen's warmness toward him, but with D.W.'s secret ringing in his mind, he now interpreted everything she did as evidence that she had feelings for him. 

After school, Arthur, D.W., and Sue Ellen idly watched TV from the couch. Mrs. Read came before them and said, "Kids, I'm going shopping. If you want to come along, we can stop at the bakery on the way."

"Cool!" exclaimed D.W.

"I'd love to come," said Sue Ellen.

"What about you, Arthur?" asked Mrs. Read.

"I think I'll stay home this time," the boy replied.

Sue Ellen looked at Arthur with a hint of disappointment in her face.

"We're leaving in a few minutes," Mrs. Read announced.

"How long do you expect you'll be gone?" Arthur asked.

"Half an hour to an hour, I expect."

"Good. Uh, I mean, that's good, because I can help Dad while you're gone."

Arthur stood in the doorway, waving goodbye, as Mrs. Read, D.W., and Sue Ellen bundled into the family car. He watched until the car disappeared over the horizon.

Then he walked slowly toward the guest bedroom, whistling nonchalantly. Through the rear window he could see his father working in the back yard.

He opened the door to the guest bedroom and entered. Looking around a bit, he saw Sue Ellen's diary sitting on the bookshelf. He pulled it out and held it in his hands. The front cover bore the warning: PROPERTY OF SUE ELLEN. PRIVATE. DO NOT OPEN. FAVOR NO ABRIR.

He looked around again, then closed the guest bedroom door. He sat down on the bed, still holding the diary in front of him.

"It's now or never," he thought.

* * *

In a wire cage at the Elwood Animal Shelter lay Pal, formerly a dog, now a cat. 

The cages surrounding him were filled with cats of all varieties. In one corner of his cage lie bowls of water and cat food. As he pined for the company of the Reads, the tabby in the cage next to him tried to strike up a conversation.

"What'd they get you for?" asked the tabby.

"You don't understand," said Pal hopelessly. "I'm not supposed to be here. I'm not even supposed to be a cat."

"Yeah, yeah. Cry me a river."

Pal rolled onto his other side, and moaned despondently. "They'll never find me."

(Author's note: Some cliffhanger, eh?)


	6. Star Crosswired

The door to the Read guest bedroom was closed. Inside, Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, clutching Sue Ellen's diary, deliberating whether to open it or not.

"I shouldn't do this," he told himself. "She'll kill me if she finds out. But what if D.W. is right?"

At that moment D.W. was in the back seat with Sue Ellen as Mrs. Read drove them toward the bakery "What do you want to get at the bakery?" D.W. asked the other girl.

"I like jelly donuts," Sue Ellen answered. "What about you?"

"I go for the bear claws. They're really good."

Mrs. Read looked at her reflection in the rear-view mirror. "My hair's a mess," she remarked. "Sue Ellen, would you please go through my purse and find my hairbrush?"

"Okay, Mrs. Read."

It took Sue Ellen only a second to find the hairbrush among the various items in Mrs. Read's purse. When she pulled it out, however, it dragged several folded sheets of paper with it. After she handed the brush to Mrs. Read, she curiously unfolded one of the papers. On it were scrawled an ornate heart shape and the words, 'I love you Arthur. D.W.'

Sue Ellen smiled delightedly. "This is so cute," she gushed. "Did you draw this?"

"Yeah," said D.W.

"I like your handwriting," said Sue Ellen. "Maybe you can't read yet, but you sure can..."

A startling realization struck her like a ton of bricks. She scowled suspiciously.

"D.W., are you sure you didn't read anything in my diary?" she whispered gruffly.

"I can't read," D.W. whispered back.

"Tell me the truth," Sue Ellen demanded.

A few minutes passed, and Arthur still hadn't opened the diary or moved from his spot on the bed. "What if I find something really embarrassing in here?" he worried. "What if I can't look at her anymore without laughing?"

Then, to his horror, the door burst open. Sue Ellen stood before him, her face a mask of fury.

He swallowed. He was sure it would be his last swallow.

"I know this looks bad," he said weakly.

"Not as bad as _you're_ gonna look," Sue Ellen snarled.

With that, she snatched the diary from Arthur's hands and laid it on the bookshelf. Then she carefully plucked the boy's glasses from his face and placed them next to the diary.

Then she drew back a fist...

Just as Arthur was bracing himself for the pain, D.W. jumped between him and Sue Ellen. "Don't hurt Arthur!" she pleaded. "It's my fault!"

Surprised and angry, Sue Ellen lowered her fist.

"I shouldn't have told him," said D.W. contritely. "I'm sorry."

"Get out," Sue Ellen ordered her.

"But you'll beat up Arthur!" D.W. insisted.

"I promise I won't hurt him."

Once D.W. had left the room, Sue Ellen closed the door and turned to confront Arthur. "How much did you read?" she demanded.

"I didn't open it."

"Liar!"

"It's the truth, honest! I picked it up, I sat here for what must have been ten minutes, but I couldn't bring myself to open it."

"I don't believe you!" Sue Ellen barked.

Arthur sighed. "Then I guess you'll have to kill me."

Sue Ellen stood motionlessly and glared at the boy until her anger began to subside.

"I'm really sorry," said Arthur. "I only wanted to find out if D.W. was telling the truth about...you know..."

"I'm not in love with you," Sue Ellen blurted out.

Relief warmed Arthur's heart.

"If D.W. read anything that made her think I was in love with you, it was just fantasy nonsense. Not everything I write is meant to be taken seriously."

Arthur didn't answer, but merely lowered his eyes.

Still indignant, Sue Ellen turned about and left the room. Arthur sat still, pondering what he had nearly done and the damage it might have caused. He hardly noticed that someone had rung the doorbell.

A minute later, Sue Ellen stuck her head into the room. "Francine's here with her drums," she announced.

* * *

Pal remained in a cage at the Elwood Animal Shelter until morning. 

At the entrance to the cat pound, an animal control officer sat at a desk, reading an issue of _Cat Fancier_ magazine. To his belt was attached a large set of keys.

Hearing a sudden noise, he looked up to see four dogs coming up to him. Seeing animals was hardly an uncommon occurrence in his line of work, but these particular dogs were unaccompanied by any human, and were walking alongside each other as if united by a common purpose. It was eerie.

One of the dogs was a female Irish setter, one a male pit bull, one a female greyhound, and one a male Shih Tzu with a canine wheelchair attached to his hind quarters.

Knowing of nothing else to say, the officer told them, "Sorry, only cats allowed here."

Suddenly the Shih Tzu's eyes started to glow. The officer heard a soothing voice inside his head, saying, "You are becoming very sleepy." And become sleepy he did. He tried to resist the drowsiness that had come upon him, but his eyelids drooped against his will, and he fell fast asleep.

The greyhound shot beams of mental energy from her eyes at the keychain on the officer's belt, telekinetically sorting through the keys until she found one that would open the door to the cat pound.

Pal, still a cat, lay asleep in one of the cages. A female voice called to him, arousing him. "Pal? Wake up, Pal."

"Huh?" said Pal groggily. "Who's there? Arthur?"

Through his weary eyes he made out the blurred image of an Irish setter's face. He blinked, and the Irish setter had been replaced by a pit bull. Pal stretched and rose to his paws.

"Are you Pal?" asked the pit bull in a gruff voice.

"Yes," replied the dog/cat. "Who are you?"

"I'm Wolfie," said the rough-looking dog. "Stand back."

Then the pit bull extended his claws into foot-long, razor-sharp blades. With one swipe of his paw, he shredded the wires on the front of Pal's cage.

"What're you waitin' for, bub?" asked Wolfie as Pal blinked unbelievingly.

Summoning courage, he leaped through the ruined cage wall and onto the floor. There he was met by an odd-looking quartet of dogs. Since he was now a cat, this appeared to be a dire situation indeed.

"You got nothin' to be afraid of," the pit bull assured him. "We're your friends. Kate sent for us."

At the sound of the baby's name, Pal's fears were erased.

"This here's Rascal," said Wolfie, gesturing toward the Irish setter.

"Hey, sugah," said the setter in a sweet voice.

"This is Jean Greyhound." Wolfie nodded at the female greyhound.

"Pleased to meet you," said Jean.

Wolfie pointed at the Shih Tzu with his paw. "And this is The Professor."

"We're here to help you," Pal heard a voice speak in his mind.

"We're the X-Pets," said Wolfie. "You may have heard of us."

"I have," Pal acknowledged. "But I thought you were a legend."

"We are a legend, bub," was Wolfie's response. "But we're also real."

"I'm glad you're here," said Pal. "Nemo has invented a device that..."

"...turns dogs into cats," the Professor spoke to his mind. "Kate told us all about it."

"But how did you find me?" Pal asked. "How did you recognize me?"

"We'll explain on the road," said Jean Greyhound.

Moments later, Pal was strolling freely down the sidewalk, accompanied by the four dogs. Seeing Alan riding a bicycle towards them, Rascal started to approach the boy while Pal and the other dogs stood to one side.

The sight of a friendly-looking Irish setter prompted Alan to stop and stretch out his hand. "Good doggie," he said with a grin.

The boy petted Rascal, who in turn licked his hand. His display of affection complete, Alan resumed his bike ride.

"Big deal," said Pal as Rascal rejoined her friends. "Any dog can do that."

"True," said Rascal, "but can any dog do this?"

To Pal's amazement, she began to speak in Alan's voice. "The sum of the squares of the sides of a right triangle is equal to the square of the hypotenuse. The speed of light is 186,282 miles per second, and is the same to all observers moving at constant velocity. The sun is 93 million miles from the Earth. Guglielmo Marconi was the inventor of the radio..."

"Incredible! How did you do that?"

Rascal spoke in her own voice again. "I absorbed his knowledge and personality when I licked his hand. That's how I was able to recognize you at the pound-because I licked Kate."

Looking down the sidewalk, Pal saw Francine and Beat coming closer, chatting idly. "It's Nemo's human!" he exclaimed.

"On her way to school, no doubt," said Jean Greyhound.

"What do we do?" asked Pal urgently.

"Nothing at the moment," intoned The Professor's telepathic voice. "We'll wait until she goes home, and then we will strike!"

* * *

During morning recess, Francine and Fern sat together at a picnic table near the playground. "Mrs. Stiles has been gone for over two weeks now," Francine reflected. "I wonder what happened to her." 

"Your guess is as good as mine," said Fern.

"How are the 'Sound of Music' rehearsals going?"

"Just fine. I know my part, more or less. We open in two more weeks."

Arthur, Sue Ellen, and Alan joined them at the table. "You played some good soccer today, Francine," said Arthur.

"Yeah," said Francine, "but Beat's better."

"That's to be expected," said Alan. "She's from England."

"I picked up some sheet music by Thelonius Monk," said Sue Ellen.

"I hope it's not too advanced," said Arthur.

Then Muffy arrived at their table them with a folder full of papers in her hands. "I drew up a business plan, everyone. Want to see it?"

"No offense, Muffy," said Francine, "but you're not the only candidate for the position of manager."

Muffy's jaw fell. "Who else are you considering?"

His timing impeccable, Van rolled up to the table in his wheelchair. "Hey, guys."

"Van?" said the surprised Muffy. "You're considering Van for manager?"

"Yup," said Arthur.

"He knows a lot about the local jazz scene," said Sue Ellen.

"Well, I happen to know a thing or two myself," said Muffy haughtily. "In fact, my father is personally acquainted with the great John Coltrane."

"John Coltrane's dead," Van informed her.

Muffy became astonished. "What? Why wasn't I told?"

"He died in 1967, Muffy. What do you have in the folder?"

"It's my business plan." Muffy pulled from her folder a sheet covered in lists and pie charts. "First we record an album of standards. Once it goes platinum..."

"You've gotta be kidding," Van groaned.

"Don't interrupt me," said Muffy. "It's rude."

"That's not realistic at all. We're fourth-graders. We need to start small and work our way up."

Muffy scowled at the duck boy. "So what's your plan, know-it-all?"

"We start playing at the local jazz clubs. Once we get a following, we book one of the concert halls at the university..."

"By that time my children will be managing jazz quartets," Muffy complained. "Do you want to be rich and famous or not?"

"To be honest, I really don't care. I just like music."

"You mean you actually listen to the stuff?"

"I don't see why we can't have two managers," said Van. "Muffy and I can work together."

"I don't have a problem with that," said Arthur.

"After practice today," Van suggested to Muffy, "you can come to my place, and we can compare our business plans in more detail."

"Are you sure it's all right?" Muffy worried. "I mean, my dad and your dad aren't exactly the best of friends."

"It'll be fine," said Van.

"Did we ever decide on a name for ourselves?" Alan asked the others.

"It was Sue Ellen's idea," Arthur noted, "so I think we should name it after her."

"How about the Sue E. Armstrong Quartet?" Van suggested.

"Why?" said Sue Ellen.

"Because it rhymes with Louis Armstrong."

"I like it," said Francine.

* * *

The first rehearsal of the newly christened Sue E. Armstrong Quartet-Sue Ellen on saxophone, Arthur on piano, Alan on bass, and Francine on drums—took place after school that day at Arthur's house. Muffy, Van, and Fern sat nearby, enjoying the lively music. When the number was finished, Sue Ellen sat down and Fern stood up. The ensemble started playing a Gershwin song, with Fern as the vocal lead. 

_The way you wear your hat,_

_The way you sip your tea,_

_The memory of all that,_

_No, no, they can't take that away from me..._

Meanwhile, Pal and the X-Pets watched and listened in front of the house.

"Nemo's human likes to come to my house and make strange noises with the other kids," Pal explained to his super-powered friends.

"Strange noises?" The Professor spoke to his brain. "That, my friend, is Gershwin."

"Gersh-what?"

They waited until the rehearsal ended, then tailed Francine as she walked back to her apartment building. They kept a safe distance to avoid being noticed by her.

Nemo rubbed against Francine's ankles as she picked up the phone and dialed Beat's number. "Hullo?" said Beat.

"It's Francine."

"What can I do for you, Frankie?"

"You played some pretty serious football...er, soccer today."

"Thanks."

"Do you think you can teach me how to do that?"

"Do what?"

"You know, kick the ball so that it curves."

"You mean bend it."

"Whatever."

"Yes, I can teach you."

Before Beat could propose a date and time, Francine heard a clicking sound. "Can you hold on a minute? There's a call on the other line."

She pushed the button on the receiver to tune in to the other call, and the voice of The Professor spoke to her.

"Why don't you pass the time by playing a little Virtual Goose?"

Suddenly Francine fell into a deep hypnotic trance. Slowly and robotically, she replaced the phone on its hook and trudged out of the apartment.

"How very odd," thought Nemo when he observed this behavior.

A minute later, the mesmerized Francine opened the door of the apartment building to allow Pal and the X-Pets inside. Rascal paused to lick Francine's hand as she and the other dogs passed by.

"Astonishing," mused The Professor. "It's been a year since I hypnotized her, and the same trigger phrase still works."

In no time at all, Pal and his canine friends had ascended the stairway and hidden themselves by the still-open door to Francine's apartment.

"Be careful," Jean Greyhound warned the others. "Magnemo could be anywhere."

"I'm not sensing him nearby," said The Professor.

At that moment Nemo was in his laboratory, using his magnetic eye beams to manipulate some tools. The sound of Francine's voice suddenly broke his concentration, and the tools plunged to the ground.

"Nemo! Here, kitty kitty! Time for din-din!"

"How can I get any work done when she's always feeding me?" the evil cat grumbled.

He quickly scurried through the corridor leading into Francine's apartment, but when he looked out from behind the refrigerator, he saw no one in the kitchen. "Where is that girl?" he wondered.

"Kitty kitty kitty," called Francine's voice from behind a corner.

The unsuspecting cat followed the voice and rounded the corner, only to see a large, rough tongue that pressed against and moistened his face.

"YOU!" he roared furiously.

All four of the heroic dogs stood before him, poised to spring into action. "Who were you expecting, Lassie?" Rascal quipped.

Seeing no hope unless he returned to his laboratory, Nemo raced around the corner and into the kitchen. Rascal, however, fired magnetic beams from her eyes and shifted the refrigerator so that it blocked the entrance to the lab. "Curses!" the cat bellowed.

The X-Pets strolled up to him, Rascal at the fore. "It's no use, sugah. I have your powers, and all your knowledge. Face it...you're licked."

Nemo groaned. "If I have to hear that stupid line one more time..."

"The lab entrance is behind the refrigerator," Rascal told the others. "Pal, Professor, Wolfie, you're the only ones small enough to pass. Once you turn Pal back into a dog, destroy everything."

"With pleasure," said Wolfie, extending his razor claws.

"This isn't over!" shouted Nemo. "I shall have my revenge!"

"Bad kitty," Jean Greyhound scolded him.

* * *

Upon hearing the doorbell ring, Van rolled his chair to the wall and pressed a button. The door automatically swung open, revealing the presence of Muffy Crosswire. Behind her on the street sat a stretch limousine, where Muffy's dutiful chauffeur Bailey sat patiently. 

"Come in, Muffy," said Van.

Quinn and Mr. Cooper, seated at the kitchen table, looked quite displeased when they saw the girl. "Is that who I think it is?" Quinn wondered.

"Hi," said Muffy a bit anxiously. "I'm Muffy Crosswire."

"I know who you are," said Mr. Cooper flatly. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Your family's rude," Muffy whispered to Van.

The pair went into Van's room, closed the door, and started to compare the merits of their plans for the jazz quartet. "I hate to say it," said Muffy, "but your idea is the slowest way to get rich I've ever heard."

"It's not a plan to get rich," Van pointed out. "It's a plan to make music. If I wanted to get rich, I'd manage some stupid boy band."

"But everyone wants to be rich," Muffy opinionated.

"We'd be rich if not for my accident," Van reflected. "My dad's a pretty good lawyer. But I don't care. Poverty builds character."

The discussion between Muffy and Van went on for about half an hour, and became more earnest as it proceeded.

"When I look back," said Muffy, "I guess my plan was pretty stupid after all."

"There's nothing wrong with having big goals," said Van.

"Maybe you should be manager instead of me," Muffy suggested.

Van grinned. "You could always be fashion consultant."

"I'd better go," said Muffy, checking her watch.

Mrs. Cooper had joined her husband and Quinn at the kitchen table by the time Muffy and Van emerged from the room. "Care to stay for a minute, Muffy?" she offered. "We've got an extra apple pie."

"Sure," said Muffy eagerly.

"I have a better idea, Mom," Quinn suggested. "Let's donate the pie to the poor."

"Shut up, Quinn," Van barked.

Quinn glared at her brother. "What did you say?"

"Muffy's my friend," said Van with firmness. "I don't like it when you insult her."

"Do you even know who her father is?" said Quinn with a hint of disgust.

"I forgot," Van joked. "Remind me again."

"You people are so rude," said Muffy. "You've got nothing on my father. He's a respectable businessman."

"I intend to prove otherwise," said Mr. Cooper calmly. "I hope the evidence I gather will be enough to convince even you."

"Hmph!" Muffy grunted. "I don't have to listen to this. I'm leaving."

"Don't let the door hit you in the wallet on the way out," said Quinn.

"Sorry about this," Van said to Muffy.

As he watched the girl depart the house, Mr. Cooper remarked, "The bad apple didn't fall far from the tree."

* * *

The next morning, Pal was telling Kate about his ordeal as a cat and his rescue by the X-Pets. "How did it feel to be a cat?" the baby asked him. 

"It was frightening at first," Pal admitted. "But after a while it felt...liberating."

He barked and ran from the room when D.W. and Nadine entered.

"I'm ready to tell you my secret," said Nadine after she had closed the door. "But first I want to ask you something."

"What?"

Nadine glanced about suspiciously. "How did you make your imaginary friend go away?"

"It was easy," D.W. boasted.

"It was?" Nadine marveled. "Did she threaten you?"

"No."

"Did she try to hurt you?"

"No. How could she hurt me? She was imaginary."

"Did she know any words you didn't know?"

"No."

"You just made her disappear?"

"Yeah."

Nadine became lost in thought. "So what's the secret?" D.W. asked her.

"Pickles is evil," Nadine whispered.

D.W. gasped.

"She was good when I made her up a year ago," Nadine explained. "But then my dad started hitting my mom, and Pickles started talking about an invasion, and taking over the world, and some place called Spiritus Mundi, where I guess she lives. She told me if I didn't help her take over the world, she would hurt me and my mom and my friends. So I helped her. But I don't want to help her anymore." Her voice quivered. "I want her to go away."

"I'll show you a trick my mom taught me," D.W. offered.

* * *

He waited until no one else was around, and then Van made a phone call. 

"Does that mean Beat Simon can't visit me either?" the troubled Muffy asked her father.

"She knows well enough to keep her opinions to herself," Mr. Crosswire observed. "That's more than I can say for that rotten lawyer and his kids."

As Muffy was about to reply, her cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hi, Muffy. It's Van."

Muffy cast a worried look at her father.

"Oh, er, hi, Arthur," she said into the cell phone.

"This isn't Arth...uh, I mean, yeah, this is Arthur."

"What's up?"

"My dad doesn't want you to come here anymore. We'll have to go somewhere else."

"Same situation here," said Muffy. "Hey, I know. We'll go to Arthur's...I mean, we'll go to your place."

"Sounds good," said Van. "See you there...I mean, here."

Before long, Arthur and Muffy were at the Read house, awaiting Van's arrival. They saw the duck boy in his wheelchair rolling around the side of the house to the back door, which was level with the ground. Muffy opened the back door to let him in. "Glad you could make it," she said.

"You two can talk about the managerial stuff in the guest bedroom," Arthur told them. "Sue Ellen went home, so it's available."

They sealed themselves in the guest room, Muffy on the bed, Van in his chair. "I had no idea my dad hated your dad so much," said Muffy. "When I asked him if you could visit, he said, 'No child of that lunatic Mel Cooper will set foot in my house,' or something to that effect."

"Technically, I wouldn't be setting foot in his house," Van pointed out. "I'm in a wheelchair."

Muffy giggled.

"My dad says he doesn't want you to come back until you can accept the fact that your father's a crook," said Van.

"How rude," Muffy grumbled. "I just don't understand how grownups can hate each other like that."

"Money," said Van without hesitation.

"Money?"

"Yeah. If your dad loses the lawsuit, he'll have to go out of business. Millions of dollars are at stake. On the other hand, when two kids fight, it's usually about something small, like a few dollars, and the next day they forget about it."

"So what does your dad gain if he wins?" Muffy asked.

"He'd have an easier time paying my medical bills," said Van, "but not much else. I'm not sure why he hates your dad."

"I don't hate you," said Muffy.

"I don't hate you either," said Van.

They remained in the room for about an hour before coming out.

Arthur looked away from the TV at them. "How about it? Did you come up with a business plan?"

"Business plan? Omigosh!" exclaimed Muffy.

"We were so busy talking about other things," said Van.

"I guess we'll have to come back later," said Muffy.

"How about this afternoon at four?" Van suggested.

"Okay," said Muffy. "I need to get home before my parents start worrying."

When Muffy reached the mansion, she found her parents hanging a print of Dali's _The Persistence of Memory_, on the wall. "Nope, still crooked," said Mr. Crosswire as he analyzed it.

"Hi, Muffin," said Mrs. Crosswire to her daughter.

"I've been thinking, Dad," said Muffy seriously.

"About what?"

"About Mr. Cooper, the lawyer."

Mr. Crosswire's tone became dark. "What about him?"

"Do you really think he's only in it for the money?"

"Of course he is. He's a lawyer. And a no-good, lying, corrupt one at that."

"Do you have any idea how high Van's medical bills are?" Muffy asked him.

"Why should I care?" he replied coldly.

In the distance, they heard the cry of Muffy's baby brother Tyson. "I'll get that," said Mrs. Crosswire, exiting the room.

"And look at how many kids he has to support," Muffy went on. "He's not getting rich by suing people. He doesn't have a nice house or fancy stuff like we have."

"That's not my fault," said Mr. Crosswire indifferently.

"I was thinking...maybe he's just a man who loves his family."

Muffy had never seen her father scowl so angrily before.

"You don't know him. You don't have to deal with him. He's utterly ruthless."

"But maybe you have to be ruthless to survive as a lawyer," Muffy pondered. "Maybe it's just part of the job. Isn't that how it is when you sell cars?"

"No, that's not how it is!" Mr. Crosswire snapped.

Fearing to incite her father more, Muffy walked off to her room, downcast.

* * *

She was still feeling depressed on Monday morning as she rode to school in her chauffeured limo. 

"Pull the car over, please," she ordered.

"Yes, Miss Muffy," said Bailey, pulling the car over to the curb.

"I think I'll walk the rest of the way, thank you," said Muffy as she hopped out.

Bailey watched her go with a puzzled expression. As far as he could remember, she had never asked to walk the rest of the way to school before. For that matter, she had never said 'please' before, either.

Morning recess found Muffy sitting on the grass under a tree, with Van next to her in his wheelchair.

"My dad told me to watch myself around you," said Van. "He's afraid you'll corrupt me with your crass materialism."

"That won't happen," said Muffy. "We both know you're incorruptible."

"You look sad today," Van remarked.

"It's just something that happened this weekend," said Muffy glumly.

"Care to tell me about it?"

"I don't know if I should."

A few moments passed in silence, and Muffy began to relate her tale.

"The other day I was talking to my dad. He was saying bad things about your dad, and I was trying to defend him. And suddenly, for the first time in my life, I had a doubt."

"About what?"

Muffy looked as if it hurt her to speak.

"About whether my dad was really honest."

Van shot Muffy an astonished look.

"I don't think I could live with myself if I found out my dad's crooked," Muffy mourned.

"What makes you think your dad may be dishonest?"

"Look at all the stuff we have," said Muffy, waving her hands. "A fancy house. Fashionable clothes. A swimming pool. I go to school in a chauffeured limo. I don't need all this. Other kids get along fine without it."

"But there's nothing wrong with having those things."

"Are you sure? He could lower the prices on all his cars, and people would love him, and we wouldn't have all the fancy stuff we have now, but we would still be happy."

"Gosh, Muffy, you're starting to sound like me," Van marveled.

"That must be it," said Muffy. "I've been spending too much time with you. It's warping my mind. Changing my philosophy of life. But you know what the funny thing is? I want to spend MORE time with you."

"Is this love?" Van wondered.

"Don't be silly."

* * *

Muffy and Van met again at Arthur's house after school. "This time we really should draw up a business plan," Muffy recommended. 

"Yes," said Van, "and after that we can start planning Buster's going-away party."

"Omigosh!" Muffy exclaimed. "I forgot all about that!"

While they retired to the guest bedroom, the anxious-looking Nadine stepped into the upstairs bathroom and closed the door. Pickles the Pomeranian materialized in a flash of light next to her, and scowled furiously.

"You told the girl our secrets!" she ranted. "You'll be punished for this!"

"I'm not afraid of you," said Nadine, gathering her courage. "You're not real."

"I may not be real now," snarled the little pom girl, "but soon I will be, and then you will feel my wrath-you, and all those you love!"

"I won't help you take over the world!" Nadine shouted. "You're evil!"

"I don't need your help," said Pickles. "I'll find someone else who will serve me faithfully."

Then Nadine covered her eyes with her hands. "Nobody's there! Nobody's there! I open my eyes and nobody's there!"

"NOOOOO..."

When Nadine opened her eyes, not a trace remained of the evil Pomeranian.

* * *

Muffy walked from school to the mansion on Wednesday afternoon. When she entered, she found that both of her parents were present, and their were very displeased. 

"Hi, Mom," she said anxiously. "Hi, Dad."

"We need to talk," said Mrs. Crosswire firmly.

"Can it wait?" asked Muffy.

"No."

The three seated themselves on their lavish furniture.

"Why haven't you been taking the limo?" Mr. Crosswire demanded.

Muffy squirmed. "Uh, well, I need the exercise, and I like to walk, and...well, quite frankly, I don't see why I should go around in a limo when the other kids don't."

"We pay Bailey good money to take you places," said her father. "We don't pay him to sit around while you walk everywhere."

"Then maybe you should let him go," Muffy suggested. "Or give him something more meaningful to do than drive a perfectly healthy little girl around."

"Your father has worked hard to obtain the standard of living we have now," said her mother. "You should be grateful for your privileges."

"Maybe so," said Muffy, "but I've been thinking lately. Do we really need all this fancy stuff? There are so many people who have nothing. Why don't we share with them? Then we'll all be happy."

"That Cooper boy is filling your head with nonsense," said Mr. Crosswire.

"You mean Van?"

"I know you've been seeing him. A lot of him."

"Who told you?"

"It's common knowledge."

"And why shouldn't I see him?" said Muffy defiantly. "He's a great boy. He's helped me to gain a whole new perspective on life."

Mr. Crosswire leaned forward and added emphasis to his voice. "Maybe I haven't made it clear enough to you what will happen if I don't win this lawsuit. Crosswire Motors will go out of business. We'll have to move out of this house and live in a smaller one. You won't have all the nice things you have now."

Muffy folded her arms. "I don't care."

"What do you mean, you don't care?" Mr. Crosswire snapped.

"If you lose, I'll just have to live like my friends do."

Flustered and angry, Mr. Crosswire struggled for words.

"Have you forgotten that you're a Crosswire? Crosswires don't live in plain houses. They don't have plain cars. Crosswires have privileges and aren't ashamed of them. Mel Cooper and his family want to destroy all that."

Muffy hesitated. "Dad...you didn't do any of the things Mr. Simon accuses you of...did you?"

It seemed as if her father was about to leap out of his skin.

"That boy is poisoning your mind. He's trying to destroy your confidence in your parents. And I'll bet his father put him up to it."

"That's not true!" Muffy insisted emotionally. "He never said anything bad about you!"

"From now on, you are not to see Van Cooper outside of school. Is that clear?"

"But..."

"Is that clear? Yes or no!"

Muffy hung her head. "Yes, Dad."

* * *

She didn't see Van until the next day in the classroom. The duck boy rolled up to the glum-looking girl and tried to console her. 

"My dad won't let me see you anymore," said Muffy sadly.

Van sighed. "I knew it was coming to this.

"I don't know my dad anymore," Muffy lamented. "I almost wish I wasn't a Crosswire."

"What's in a name?"

"If it's Crosswire, an awful lot."

"At least we can still see each other at school," said Van.

"You're right," said Muffy. "They can't take that away from me."

But they could.

Muffy was in her room when her parents entered, but this time they appeared more unruffled than the previous day. "Got a minute, Muffin?" asked her father, who sounded almost cheery.

"Okay," said the girl, and the parents sat next to her.

"After the talk we had yesterday, your father and I did some thinking," said Mrs. Crosswire. "We decided you could use a change in your school environment."

"Why?" asked Muffy. "Lakewood's a nice school."

"Yes, but there are other schools where we think you would get a better education."

Muffy gasped. "You don't mean..."

"Yes, I do," said her mother. "We've decided to enroll you in a private school."

A chill passed through Muffy's heart. She buried her face in her hands and groaned.

* * *

In another part of the neighborhood, Prunella sat on the floor in her attic, lost in a meditative trance. As she explored her inner self, a little girl's voice called to her from the empty air. 

"Prunella..."

The rat girl awakened from her trance. "Huh? Who's there?"

"If you build it, we will come," intoned the mysterious voice.

"Who are you?" asked Prunella nervously.

In the dim light of the attic, the glowing outline of a Pomeranian appeared...

TBC


	7. The Rat Who Came Forever

Six weeks of fourth grade had gone by. During morning recess on Monday, Alan, Fern, Beat, and Van had gathered in the playground to commiserate with Muffy.

"I don't know what to do," the girl mourned. "I don't want to go to a private school. Why can't I make my own choice?"

"It's not that bad," sand Alan. "We can still visit each other and stuff. Plus you get to go to a great school. I'd kill for the chance to attend Uppity Downs Academy."

"Just when I start looking at life in a new light," Muffy lamented, "my parents send me to a school with a bunch of rich snobs!"

Begin Muffy fantasy sequence.

Muffy arrived at Uppity Downs Academy wearing her usual dress. Among the well-attired children stood a dog boy wearing a monocle, to whom she extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Muffy Cross..."

Rather than shake hands with her, the boy pulled a coin from his pocket and placed it in Muffy's outstretched hand. "There's a homeless shelter five blocks south of here," he said haughtily. "Now if you please, your smell is quite distracting."

End Muffy fantasy sequence.

"I hope your parents didn't do this because of me," said Van.

"I don't know," said Muffy. "I guess they're afraid I'm losing the Crosswire spirit. But it looks like I won't be able to see you anymore."

"They can't keep us apart that easily," said Van firmly.

"Maybe we can send messages back and forth by carrier pigeon," Muffy suggested.

"Hi, guys," said Arthur as he walked up to the group. "Alan, Beat, I've got a question for you brainiacs. Actually, it's a question from D.W."

"Let's hear it," said Alan.

"You ever hear of a place called Spiritus Mundi?" the aardvark boy asked.

"Spiritus Mundi," Fern repeated thoughtfully to herself.

"Never heard of it," said Beat.

"If it has something to do with spirits," suggested Alan, "you should ask Prunella."

"The Second Coming," Fern suddenly uttered.

"Huh?" said Arthur.

Fern began to recite:

_Hardly are those words out_

_When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi_

_Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert_

_A shape with lion body and the head of a man,_

_A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,_

_Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it_

_Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds._

"Shelley?" asked Beat.

"Yeats, you silly goose," said Fern.

"Sounds like a creepy place," said Muffy. "And dry climates are murder on my skin."

"So what is this place?" Arthur asked Fern.

"It's not a real place. Mrs. Stiles said it's some kind of imaginary zone. Why would D.W. want to know about it?"

"Beats me," said Arthur with a shrug. "She and her friend Nadine have been talking about it all weekend."

"Who's Prunella?" asked Beat.

"She's one of our fifth grade friends," replied Muffy.

"She's pretty deep into astrology and spiritual stuff," said Alan.

Arthur looked around the school environs. "Wait, I see her. She's by the back entrance. I'll go ask her."

"I'll come too," said Muffy.

"Me too," said Beat. "I'd like to meet her."

At that moment Prunella was holding a conversation with Binky. "I can talk to Odette now without getting nervous," the bulldog boy told her, "but dancing with her isn't quite so easy."

"Hi, Muffy," said Prunella when she saw Muffy, Arthur, and Beat approaching.

"This is Beat Simon," Muffy introduced the British girl, who shook hands with Prunella.

"Have you heard of a place called Spiritus Mundi?" asked Arthur.

Upon hearing the words, the rat girl suddenly turned ghastly pale.

"Are you okay?" Muffy asked her.

"Um, uh, I'm not feeling so well," Prunella stammered. "I think I'll see the nurse."

"Well?" Arthur asked again. "Have you heard of it?"

"It doesn't exist," said Prunella as she marched quickly into the school building.

"Gee, what got into her?" Binky wondered.

* * *

After school, Arthur and D.W. entertained themselves by putting up Halloween decorations in their home. After Arthur had pinned a picture of a fearsome black cat on his bedroom door, he came down the stairs to see D.W. tangled in fake cobwebs in the living room. 

"Hey, big brother, can you give me a hand with these?" she requested.

"Sure," said Arthur as he tried to untangle his sister.

"Did you find out what Spiritus Mundi is?" D.W. asked him.

"I asked Prunella," her brother replied. "I think she knows, but I don't think she wants to tell me."

"Can you ask her again?" D.W. urged. "This is really important."

"Sure, whatever," said Arthur noncommittally.

The doorbell rang, and Arthur dropped his end of the cobweb strand so he could answer it. Sue Ellen stood in the doorway, apparently short of breath. She grinned ecstatically and put her arms on Arthur's shoulders, prompting the boy to back away slightly.

"Arthur..." she gasped.

"What?"

"Carla and Nigel..."

"What about them?"

"...are getting married!"

Arthur's jaw dropped.

* * *

The newly engaged couple, Nigel Ratburn and Carla Fuente, went to Stephanie's jewelry store that very day. Assisting them was store employee Maria Harris, Nadine's mother. 

"We'd like to look at some diamond rings," said Mr. Ratburn.

"Right this way," said Mrs. Harris.

Meanwhile, at the Elwood City Community Theatre, Fern and other cast members were rehearsing the songs for their upcoming performance of 'The Sound of Music'. "So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye..." she warbled with the chorus.

As they concluded the song, Fern watched as a woman entered the theatre and sat down in the back row. The lights were dim, but Fern thought she recognized the woman...and her heart leaped into her throat. "Excuse me a minute," she said to the director.

She hurried over to where the woman was seated, and her hopes were confirmed.

"Mrs. Stiles!"

The woman stood, and Fern ran to embrace her.

"It's so good to see you, Fern," said her former teacher and poetry coach. "You know, I was going to play Marta once when I was child, but I caught laryngitis at the last minute and had to be replaced."

"Then you're out of rehab?" asked Fern hopefully. "You're better?"

"Better than I was," said Mrs. Stiles. "I'm still having some ups and downs. But the clinic staff was very helpful, and Rodentia was a life-saver."

"I worried so much about you," said Fern earnestly. "Every night I prayed you would come out all right."

"I guess your prayers have been answered."

After the rehearsal, Mrs. Stiles followed Fern along the street in the direction of the girl's house. "What will you do for work now? I don't think the school will give you your job back."

"I'll start looking for a job later this week," said the former teacher.

"Maybe I can help," Fern offered. "My dad knows a lot of people at the employment agency. He's a tech worker, and he's been unemployed a lot."

"After what happened with the drugs, it's unlikely that I'll find another teaching job," Mrs. Stiles remarked.

Mrs. Walters stood up, startled, when she saw Mrs. Stiles entering the house with her daughter.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hello, Fern. Mrs. Stiles? Is that you?"

"In the flesh."

"They let you out?" Mrs. Walters marveled. "That was quick."

"It didn't seem quick to me at all," said the polar bear woman.

"I'm sorry," said Mrs. Walters. "How insensitive of me."

"Mom, can Mrs. Stiles stay for a minute?" asked Fern.

Mrs. Walters peered rather suspiciously at the visitor. "Would you like to stay?" she inquired.

"Thanks so much," said Mrs. Stiles, "but I should be going."

"Will you need any help getting home?"

"No, I can manage."

Once Mrs. Stiles had left, Fern's mother shook her head slightly. "Well, it's nice to see her in good health again. Honey, Sue Ellen called. She wants you to call back."

"Okay," said Fern. "Is Dad around?"

* * *

The next morning, Mr. Ratburn pulled his economy car into his reserved parking space, climbed out, and walked into the school building. On his way to the teacher's lounge, he was mobbed all at once by Arthur, Buster, Francine, Muffy, and Sue Ellen. 

"Is it true?" asked the grinning Buster. "Are you really getting married?"

"It's true," Mr. Ratburn acknowledged.

"Show us all your wedding band," Francine urged him.

The rat man held up his hand so the kids could see his wedding band. 'Oooh's and 'aaah's were heard among them.

"We just wanted to tell you how happy we are for you," said Arthur.

"Thank you," said Mr. Ratburn.

"This is a special day for all of us," said Muffy. "Because of that, I'm offering my services as a wedding planner at a discount rate."

"Thanks, Muffy, but I..."

"This offer won't last long," Muffy cautioned him.

"Muffy, give the recently engaged man a break," said Sue Ellen.

"I really need to prepare for my class," said Ratburn. "Thanks for being so considerate."

As he continued down the hallway, he was quickly thronged by a crowd of fifth-graders, including Prunella and Marina.

When the kids entered room 18 for their daily Mr. Wald fix, they were surprised to see an old friend seated at one of the desks—George Nordgren.

"George? What are you doing here?" asked Binky.

"I'm in your class now," said the moose boy.

"Awesome!" said Binky. "It'll be just like old times."

George became nervous.

"That's not what I mean," Binky assured him.

"Welcome, everyone," said Mr. Wald. "We have a new addition to our class. Most of you already know George Nordgren. He was in special education at the beginning of the school year, but his progress has been so rapid that he's been moved into a regular class. So let's all give him a warm welcome."

Fern raises her hand. "Mr. Wald, you may also want to mention that Mrs. Stiles has been released from the rehab clinic."

The teacher and kids looked at Fern in astonishment.

"Is that so," Mr. Wald mused. "That's news to me. Good news!"

Van raised his hand. "Does this mean you won't be our teacher anymore?"

"Not necessarily," said Mr. Wald. "We'll talk about it later."

By the end of the session, they still hadn't talked about it.

Buster, Muffy, and Fern talked during the class break. "Mrs. Stiles is better?" asked Muffy. "Did you see her?"

Fern nodded. "She came to my rehearsal last night."

"Cool," said Buster. "Is she gonna be our teacher again?"

"Not likely," said Fern, "with the school policy being the way it is."

"Then where will she work?" Muffy wondered.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," said Fern. "Go on ahead, Buster. This is just between us girls."

As Buster walked away, Fern made her proposal. "Muffy, have your parents considered hiring a private tutor?"

"I don't know. They could probably afford..." Muffy's face lit up like a rocket. "That's a great idea! I'd love to have Mrs. Stiles as a tutor! Then I wouldn't have to go to Uppity Downs with all those snobs!"

"Will you ask them?"

"Sure. Except my dad's out of town today, so I'll have to ask him tomorrow."

When the last period was over, Mr. Wald asked Alan and Beat to speak with him, while the other kids went their separate ways.

"You going to the Sugar Bowl, Muffy?" asked Francine.

"Nope," said Muffy. "Prunella invited me to her place for a 'six days before Halloween' party."

"Prunella's Halloween parties are always the best," Francine remarked. "Say hello to her for me."

Meanwhile, Alan reacted in surprise to what Mr. Wald had just suggested to him.

"Advanced placement?" he pondered. "You mean..."

"Yes," said Mr. Wald. "I can honestly see no reason why you two shouldn't be in fifth grade."

"But I'm just becoming accustomed to the American school system," said Beat. "Isn't it too soon?"

"I'll take the test," said Alan confidently. "Why go through fourth grade if I don't have to?"

"I'm not sure, Mr. Wald," said Beat. "I'll need to think about it."

"Can you take the test on Saturday morning?" the teacher asked Alan.

"Buster's mom's wedding is on Saturday morning," Alan told him.

"Then we'll make it Saturday afternoon," said Mr. Wald.

* * *

At Prunella's 'six days before Halloween party', the kids were exchanging scary stories. Among those present were Muffy and Marina, as well as two of Prunella's classmates, the blond elephant girl Bonnie and the Japanese monkey boy Toru. 

"It turned out to be...a dead end!" Muffy regaled her friends. "The vampire drew closer and closer. I could smell the blood of his victims on his breath. In terror I cried out, 'What do you want?' and he answered, 'Your soul!' 'Oh, is that all?' I said. 'I thought you were after my credit cards.'"

"Great story, Muffy," said Prunella as the other kids laughed. "Your turn, Toru."

The Japanese boy started to speak. "This is a story about Okiku, the ghost who came out of a well."

Prunella checked her watch. "Go ahead without me," she instructed Toru. "I need to check on something."

Prunella hurried to her room and found, to her dismay, that her sister Rubella was standing inside, looking over the wooden frame that Prunella had constructed. The frame was built out of planks and decorated with occultic symbols. A lighted candle sat on each of its four corners.

"What are you doing in here?" Prunella exclaimed. "You're not supposed to see this!"

"I couldn't help it," said Rubella. "The vibrations from your room were too strong-and now I know why. You've constructed an astral portal!"

"Don't tell anyone about it," Prunella urged.

"Who are you trying to make contact with?" asked Rubella.

"They've made contact with me," said Prunella to her sister's astonishment.

"Who are they?" Rubella demanded. "What do they want?"

"I'm sure they're peaceful. Their leader is planning to cross over on Halloween."

"Do you know what this means?" Rubella marveled. "Beings from another dimension have chosen us as their conduit! We'd better tell Mom about this, just in case they're not as friendly as they claim to be."

"No, we'd better keep it secret," Prunella recommended. "People are starting to ask questions. Just the other day Arthur asked me about Spiritus Mundi."

The moment Prunella spoke these words, a rumbling sound emerged from the astral portal. The interior started to glow an eerie red, and waves of light started to flow through it.

"Oopsie," said Prunella. "I said the name."

"How careless of you," came a little girls voice from nowhere.

To the surprise of the sisters, Pickles the Pomeranian rose out of the glowing portal and started to float in midair above it. "I told you not to tell anyone else," the pom scolded Prunella.

"It's not her fault," Rubella admitted. "I poked around where I shouldn't have."

Pickles narrowed her eyes at the teenage girl. "Can you be trusted?"

"Of course. Prunie and I keep secrets all the time. Just not from each other."

"We must keep our operation secret," Pickles advised the girls. "The forces of ignorance would like to prevent us from crossing over."

"I have a question," said Rubella.

"I may or may not have an answer," said Pickles.

"Are you good or evil?"

"Those concepts are meaningless to us," Pickles told her. "There is only knowledge and ignorance. We seek to add to our knowledge by visiting your world."

"You completely sidestepped my question," Rubella complained.

"I think what she's trying to say is, what if you had to pick a side?" asked Prunella.

"Knowledge," said Pickles with finality.

With that, the Pomeranian girl floated downward into the portal and disappeared. As the inside of the wooden frame stopped glowing, Rubella turned to her sister.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

* * *

After school the next day, Muffy and Fern were transported to the Crosswire mansion in Muffy's limo. "Thank you, Bailey," said Muffy. "Here's a little extra for your trouble." She handed the chauffeur a 50 bill, and then she and Fern climbed out of the vehicle. 

As Bailey watched them run into the house, he wiped a tear from his eye.

The two girls met with Muffy's parents inside. "We've finished all the paperwork," Mr. Crosswire informed his daughter. "All it needs is your signature, and you'll start attending Uppity Downs in November."

"That's great, Dad," said Muffy unenthusiastically. "However, Fern and I just had an idea."

"What idea is that?"

"Have you given any thought to hiring a private tutor for Muffy?"

Mr. and Mrs. Crosswire looked at each other. "I think we considered that, didn't we, Ed?"

"I don't see a reason for it," said Mr. Crosswire. "Uppity Downs has the best teachers in the city."

"Except for one," said Fern.

"Who did you have in mind?" Mrs. Crosswire asked her.

"Our old teacher, Jean Stiles," said Muffy.

"Absolutely not," said Mrs. Crosswire without hesitation.

"Why not?" Fern asked. "She's an excellent teacher, and she needs a job."

"Jean Stiles will not teach our daughter," Mrs. Crosswire insisted. "That's my final word."

"Mine too," her husband added.

"But I really like Mrs. Stiles," said Muffy.

"What part of 'final word' don't you understand?" said her mother.

"The 'final' part," Muffy protested. "What do you have against Mrs. Stiles? Is it the drug problem? She's over that."

"Follow me, girls," Mrs. Crosswire instructed them.

As she led them to the study, she warned them, "You're about to learn something very disturbing. I don't know if you're ready for it."

"Try me," said Fern.

The Crosswire study was equipped with the latest in computer technology, as Fern discovered to her delight. All Mrs. Crosswire had to say to start up the system was, "Computer. On."

A beautiful Nordic landscape appeared on the screen. "Cool," Fern enthused. "Voice activation."

"Good afternoon, Millicent Crosswire," said a pleasant computer voice. "You have new mail."

"Stuff it," said Mrs. Crosswire.

"Stuffing it," said the computer voice.

After a little web searching, Mrs. Crosswire brought up a back issue of the Elwood Times Online. "Here it is, girls. Read it and weep."

Muffy scanned the article's headline. "'Actress turned teacher admitted to rehab clinic. By Bitzi Baxter.' We know that part, Mom."

"Keep reading," said her mother. "If you dare."

Fern and Muffy grew more and more startled as they read through the article.

"Mom, what does this word mean?" asked Muffy, pointing at a spot on the screen.

"You're too young to know what that word means," said her mother.

"I know what it means," said Fern.

"What does it mean?" Muffy asked her.

"You're too young to know what that word means."

By the time she finished reading the article, Fern was indignant. "How could Buster's mom print such a thing?"

"It's slander!" Muffy complained. "Mrs. Stiles should sue!"

"I don't believe a word of it," said Fern.

"Let's read it again," said Muffy.

* * *

In her lonely apartment, Mrs. Stiles was preparing a modest dinner for herself when the doorbell rang. She happily welcomed Fern and Muffy inside. 

"Well, hello, Fern. And it's good to see you too, Muffy."

Muffy gazed curiously at the books lining the shelves and the movie posters adorning the walls.

"We just wanted to ask you a question," said Fern.

"Certainly," said the polar bear woman.

Fern hesitated. "You ask her, Muffy."

"We just read the newspaper article about you," said the monkey girl. "The one by Buster's mom. We know none of that stuff is really true, so we wanted to ask you why..."

Mrs. Stiles' expression turned deadly serious. "Sit down, girls."

Fern and Muffy grew worried as they seated themselves next to the woman.

"You're talking about the article that came out just after I went into rehab."

"Uh-huh," said Muffy.

"The one about my time in Hollywood."

"That's the one."

Mrs. Stiles sighed. "It's all true. Every word."

"No!" cried Fern.

"Y-you mean...you..." Muffy stammered.

"I did many things I'm not proud of," Mrs. Stiles admitted. "Now you know. I'm sorry."

Muffy and Fern became speechless from astonishment.

"I wanted more than anything to be a big Hollywood star," she related. "But I didn't want to work hard, so I did some dishonest and immoral things to get ahead. In the end, I lost everything. My career, my health, even my husband. That's why I was put on the drugs. Now you know the whole story." She looked away from the girls in shame. "I suppose you came here expecting me to deny everything."

"I guess we can say goodbye to the whole private tutor idea," said Muffy as she rose from the couch.

"Where are you going?" Fern asked her.

"I'm leaving," Muffy replied.

"No, you're not. Sit down."

Surprised at Fern's sharpness, Muffy seated herself again.

"I don't care what kind of person you were when you lived in Hollywood," Fern told Mrs. Stiles. "All I care about is the kind of person you are now."

"I'm a weak person," the former teacher admitted. "That's why I became addicted to the drugs. I have a hard time dealing with my emotions."

"I really think we should go now," said Muffy, rising again.

"Okay," said Fern, "if you insist." Turning to Mrs. Stiles, she said, "I'll visit you again tomorrow."

"Come on, Fern," said Muffy, and the girls quickly left.

"Why are you in such a big hurry?" Fern demanded to know.

"I just wanted to get out of there. I had no idea she would confess to everything."

"So she made some mistakes in the past," said Fern dismissively. "That sort of thing happens all the time in Hollywood."

"To think she was our teacher," mused Muffy as she and Fern reached the sidewalk in front of Mrs. Stiles' building. "This really creeps me out, Fern."

"How would you like it, Muffy?" Fern snapped. "What if you did something wrong in the past, and everyone kept digging it up and reminding you of it?"

"I'd never do the kinds of things she did," said Muffy woundedly.

"This coming from a girl who wants to grow up to be a supermodel," said Fern indignantly. "I don't like the things she did either, but she's our friend and she needs our support. She's lonely. She's emotionally unbalanced."

"Then support her," said Muffy haughtily. "I won't try to stop you."

"You don't even care about her!" Outraged, Fern turned and walked away in a huff.

* * *

After school the next day, Mrs. Read was grilling Mr. Ratburn and Carla about their plans while Arthur looked on. "Nigel, when did you first realize that Carla was the woman of your dreams?" she asked. 

"It was the night we first met," Ratburn recounted. "When Sue Ellen lost her temper, and Carla had to take her home, I felt like...like a part of me had been torn away. I knew I had to see her again."

"You're such a romantic fool," said Carla, kissing him on the cheek.

"Dinner's ready," called Mr. Read from the kitchen.

"Finally," said Ratburn. "I'm famished."

"You're always famished," said Carla. "I need to cook for you more often."

"I'll get the girls," said Mrs. Read. However, when she opened the door and looked out into the front yard, she saw no one except Pal. "Where are they?"

D.W. and Nadine happened to be on the doorstep of Prunella's house, along with Sue Ellen, who was ringing the doorbell.

"Thanks for bringing us here, Sue Ellen," said D.W.

The door opened, and Prunella stuck her head out. "Hi, Prunella," said Sue Ellen. "D.W. and Nadine wanted to ask you something."

"Make it quick," said the rat girl crankily. "I'm awfully busy."

"You've got to tell us about Spiritus Mundi," urged Nadine. "We think something terrible is gonna happen on Halloween."

"There's no such place," said Prunella sharply. "Who are you, anyway?"

"My name's Nadine."

Prunella looked at Nadine, then at D.W., then back at Nadine. She shook her head.

"If Pickles tries to talk to you, don't listen to her." Nadine warned. "She's evil."

"No, she's..." Prunella caught herself. "Nobody named Pickles is trying to talk to me."

"She wants to take over the world," said Nadine.

"You're imagining things," said Prunella. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. Happy Halloween."

When Sue Ellen, D.W., and Nadine returned to the Reads' house, Mrs. Read was enjoying dinner with Carla and Mr. Ratburn.

"Where were you?" D.W.'s mother asked her.

"They wanted to see Prunella," Sue Ellen explained.

"I thought I told you not to bother her," Arthur scolded his sister.

"What's this about?" asked Mrs. Read.

"It's that Spiritus Mundi thing Nadine keeps talking about," said Arthur. "She thinks the world is going to end on Halloween."

The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Read answered it. "Hello, Prunella. Come in."

Arthur, D.W., and Nadine watched in surprise as Prunella walked into the dining room.

"Nadine, I'd like to talk to you in private," she said solemnly.

Meanwhile, in Prunella's living room, the blind rabbit girl Marina had her nose, or rather her fingers, stuck in a Braille textbook. Suddenly she heard Prunella's frantic voice, coming from the direction of her room. "Marina! Help!"

"Prunella?" she called out. "What's the matter?"

"I'm hurt!" came the voice. "I'm in my room!"

"I'm coming!"

Marina quickly dropped her book and jumped to her feet. Grabbing her cane, she tapped her way up the stairs to Prunella's room, opened the door, and went inside.

"Over here!" called Prunella's voice. "Come closer!"

Not long afterward, Prunella returned to her house to find Marina's textbook lying on the couch. She sat down next to it, picked up her own book, and resumed her studies.

A few minutes passed. No sign of Marina.

"Hey, Marina," Prunella called out. "Are you in the bathroom?"

There was no response. Prunella continued to do her homework. Fifteen minutes passed.

"Marina? Where are you?"

* * *

Later that evening, the doorbell rang in Mrs. Stiles' apartment, and she was elated to see Fern in the doorway. 

"Come in, Fern. Would you like some warm cookies and milk?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Stiles."

After they sat down with their milk and cookies, Fern apologized for Muffy's rudeness. "She didn't take it very well when she learned about the things you did."

"I can't blame her if she doesn't like me," said the polar bear woman.

"She just needs to get to know you," said Fern.

"I'm afraid it may take a while for me to be accepted by this community."

"I hate Mrs. Baxter for printing that article. Why couldn't she leave the past alone?"

"If she hadn't printed it, someone else would have."

"You need to show everyone that you're a good person now. They don't understand. They read the article, but they haven't met you."

"What do you suggest?"

"Come to the wedding reception on Saturday."

Mrs. Stiles thought for a moment. "But I haven't been invited."

"Just show up. It shouldn't be a problem."

"Besides, you just said you hate Mrs. Baxter."

"For printing the article. I hate her for printing the article."

"I'm afraid I wouldn't be welcome."

"Of course you'd be welcome. Please come, Mrs. Stiles. Please."

The woman hesitated.

"Look at my puppy-dog eyes," said Fern. "You know you can't resist."

However, Fern ultimately failed to convince Mrs. Stiles to commit. As she walked away from the apartment building in the direction of home, she saw two police cars parked in front of Prunella's house. She gasped and started running toward the scene.

Upon entering, she saw a police officer talking to Rubella and her mother. Prunella was sitting on the couch, tears streaming down her face.

"What happened?" Fern asked.

"Marina's gone!" sobbed Prunella. "She's disappeared!"

* * *

It was Saturday, shortly after the wedding of Bitzi Baxter and Harry Mills had been consummated. The bride, groom, and guests had gathered for the reception at the city park, where cake and punch had been provided by David Read's catering service. The Sue E. Armstrong Quartet was there, playing romantic background music. 

Buster was chatting with Harry, his new father. The Reads weree there, along with the Crosswires and the Frenskys. Mr. Ratburn was holding hands with Carla and enjoying a large slice of wedding cake. Nadine was there with her mother, while the Simons and the Coopers were conspicuously absent.

"I can't conceive of it," Mrs. Read sead to Mrs. Frensky. "Who would be capable of kidnapping a blind girl?"

"Whatever is this city coming to?" said Mrs. Frensky shaking her head.

Fern and her mother were also at the party, although Fern's glum expression might have been better suited for a funeral.

"What's wrong?" her mother asked.

"She's not here," the poodle girl muttered sadly.

"She starts a week from now," Mr. Crosswire said to Harry Mills. "It's the best school in the city. This is something we probably should have done a long time ago."

"I'm glad some people can afford it," Harry remarked. "How about it, Muffy? New school, new friends..."

"Lucky me," said Muffy miserably.

"Can you believe it?" Carla said to Bitzi. "Just when we thought all the good men were taken."

"Have you set a date yet?" Bitzi asked her.

"We're thinking December, just before Christmas."

"Have you decided on a honeymoon spot?" Mr. Read asked Mr. Ratburn.

"Not yet. She wants to go to Acapulco, but I prefer Cancun."

When the quartet finished its number, Sue Ellen motioned for Fern to sing with them, but she shrugged them off. They started to play another selection without her, and then Bitzi took notice of Fern's unhappiness.

"What's with the sad face?" asked the just-married rabbit woman. "This should be a happy day."

"I hoped Mrs. Stiles would come," Fern lamented.

"It's probably for the best that she didn't," said Bitzi.

"What do you mean?"

"She's not very well liked."

Bitzi's comment elicited a surge of bitterness in Fern's heart.

"You know why that is, don't you?" she grumbled. "Because you wrote that stupid article."

"I felt that the public had a right to know," said Bitzi self-righteously.

"And what about her rights?" Fern retorted. "Doesn't she have the right to not be punished for the rest of her life for something she did in the past?"

"I know you're a good friend of hers. But still, I think parents like myself have a right to know what kind of people are teaching their children."

"What are you saying?"

Bitzi's tone became indignant. "I'm saying, I don't want my son to be taught by a promiscuous woman like Jean Stiles."

Fern's bitterness suddenly turned to anger. "Take that back!" she ordered. "It's not true!"

All the guests turned their heads to see the exchange between Fern and Bitzi.

"Fern, this isn't the time or place to..." Bitzi started to say.

Before she could finish, Fern flew at her in a rage and knocked her over. The bride struck a nearby table as she fell, tipping it over—along with the wedding cake and punch bowl.

As the guests watched in dismay, the cake fell to pieces and the punch bowl shattered, spilling its contents on the ground. The musicians in the quartet stopped playing.

"Oh, no!" cried Mr. Read. "My cake!"

While Mrs. Walters grabbed Fern by the arm and dragged her away, the poodle girl turned toward the stunned Bitzi and yelled, "Look who's a fallen woman now!"

Harry helped his new bride to her feet and brushed the dirt from her wedding dress. "What was that all about?" he asked.

"She was defending Jean Stiles' honor," said Bitzi. "For what it's worth."

Within moments, Fern was in the passenger's seat of the family car, while her severely angry mother drove away from the park. "That was detestable!" Mrs. Walters scolded her. "Attacking the bride at her reception. And in front of all those people! How could you think of doing such a thing?"

"She called Mrs. Stiles promiscuous!" Fern complained.

"I don't care," said her mother. "And you're not supposed to know what that word means anyway."

"I know I shouldn't have lost my temper, but..."

"But? But what?"

"But..."

"But... But..." Mrs. Walters mocked her. "I'll tell you what I'm gonna do to your butt. I'm gonna ground your butt. For two solid weeks."

"But, Mom, the play!" said the horrified Fern.

"Mr. Baker will have to find another little girl to play Marta," said her mother coldly.

Fern lowered her head and started to cry. "Stop blubbering and take your punishment like a woman," said Mrs. Walters.

* * *

Later that day, the doorbell rang at the Read house. Mrs. Read, having changed out of her good dress, welcomed Prunella inside. The rat girl appeared pale and frightened. Arthur and D.W. hurried to her side, supposing she was still suffering over the loss of Marina. 

"D.W., where's your friend Nadine?" Prunella asked.

"She's not here."

"Call her and tell her to come over right now."

"What for?"

"I know where Marina is."

"Where is she?"

"She's in...Spiritus Mundi!"

TBC


	8. Spiritus Mundi

When Marina regained her bearings, she found herself on what felt like a cold marble floor. There was no sound to be heard-not even birds singing, or cars going by on the street. She groped for her cane, and found it lying nearby. Then a little girl's voice spoke to her.

"Morgan, this will go much more smoothly if she can see us."

The blind girl suddenly sensed a hand passing in front of her face-followed by an explosion of light.

She rubbed her eyes in disbelief. "I can...see?"

There wasn't much to see. Emptiness seemed to extend in all directions. The sky was dark blue and featureless. It clearly wasn't Earth as she remembered it.

Then, in front of her, four figures materialized. The shortest of them was Pickles the Pomeranian. "Welcome to Spiritus Mundi," she said with a wicked sneer. "I hope you enjoy your stay. With any luck it will be brief."

"Who are you?" asked Marina.

"I am the ruler of this domain. My subjects call me Dread Sovereign Lord, but you may refer to me as Pickles. And these three are my counselors."

One of the counselors was an ageless-looking, wavy-haired woman wearing skins and a breastplate. "I am known by many names, but in your books of legend I am called Morgan le Fay."

Another of the counselors was a well-groomed man wearing a Victorian-era suit. "Professor James Moriarty, at your service," he said, bowing.

The last of the counselors was a tall, emaciated man wearing a long robe and a hood.

"And here is a man who needs no introduction," said Pickles. "You, of all people, should recognize him."

And she recognized him indeed. "Lord Moldywart!"

"The very same," said the robed figure.

"I must be dreaming," said Marina. "You're all fictional characters. And I shouldn't be able to see."

"You became fictional as well, when you entered our universe," said Pickles. "Your laws of physics don't apply here. The only limit is imagination. My imagination."

"What do you want with me?"

"Nothing. I'm only trying to ensure the cooperation of your friend Prunella."

"If these are your counselors," said Marina, glaring at the trio, "then you must be planning something evil."

Pickles laughed. "Your simplistic notions of good and evil amuse me. I'll have you know that I invited Sherlock Holmes, Merlin, and Professor Dumbledork to assist me, but they declined. I can't imagine why."

"What did you say this place is called?"

"Spiritus Mundi. Everything you imagine in the real world comes to life here. That's why you're holding a conversation with fictional characters."

"But all I see is empty space," said Marina, looking in all directions.

"You see what I allow you to see," said Pickles. "Would you like to see more?"

"Yes."

Pickles snapped her fingers. Suddenly there appeared, on all sides of Marina, a gigantic horde—every villain, fiend, and monster ever fabricated by the imagination. She gasped in horror.

"I didn't want to show you everything at once," said Pickles, "lest it should overwhelm your newfound sense of sight."

"I changed my mind," Marina begged. "Make them go away!"

Pickles snapped her fingers again, and the hosts of evil vanished.

"You say you're not evil," said Marina. "Then how do you explain this?"

"Heroes and villains have a hard time working together for some reason. So I had to pick a side."

"What do you want with Prunella?"

"I want her to keep the portal open through Halloween. If she does, then I'll release you. Otherwise, you can kiss your cute little bunny tail goodbye!"

* * *

"Pickles let me talk to Marina," recounted Prunella to D.W. and Nadine. "She told me that Spiritus Mundi is a place where everything we imagine becomes reality." 

"You mean Mary Moo Cow is there?" asked D.W. excitedly.

"Yeah," said Nadine, "but I don't think she'll be coming through the portal on Halloween."

"There's no telling what kinds of evil exist in Spiritus Mundi," said Prunella fearfully. "If they manage to cross over into our world, we're all doomed!"

"Then what do we do?" D.W. wondered.

"We need to think of a plan. Some way to get Marina back. And we've got only two days, or else we'll have to say goodbye to her forever. Nadine, do you know what time Pickles is planning to invade on Halloween?"

"No."

"That means we only have until midnight on Halloween morning."

"We need a plan!" Nadine urged. "Think, girls!"

They thought for a few minutes, and then D.W.'s face lit up.

"I have an idea!"

After she had shared her idea with the other girls, they hurried to Prunella's house and sat down in front of the astral portal.

"Spiritus Mundi," Prunella intoned.

The interior of the portal started to glow red, and waves of light rose from it.. Pickles rose out of the portal and floats in midair, as she had done before.

"Nadine, you traitor!" she growled. "How dare you show your face!"

"I'm the one you really want," said the squirrel girl fearlessly. "Let Marina go and take me instead."

Prunella and D.W. looked at Nadine in horror while Pickles considered her proposal.

"It's a trick," she decided.

"No tricks," Nadine promised.

"I don't trust you."

"I don't trust you either."

"All right," said Pickles, "if you're serious about this, then come through the portal and surrender yourself to me. Then maybe, just maybe, I'll let Marina go."

"Don't do it, Nadine!" cried D.W.

"It's a trap!" Prunella warned.

"It's the only way," said Nadine with a tone of resignation.

She stepped into the portal and started to sink through the waves of light as Pickles watches from above. Once Nadine had disappeared from view, the evil pom smiled and descended into the portal after her.

"Now, D.W.!" said Prunella, and the aardvark girl pressed her fingers against her temples and started to concentrate hard.

A moment later, Marina came flying through the portal and landed on the floor. Then her cane flew out and landed on the other side of the room.

"Marina!" Prunella exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," said the rabbit girl, picking herself up. "But I'm blind again."

D.W., meanwhile, continued to concentrate.

In Spiritus Mundi, Pickles and her counselors surrounded Nadine. "You let her go," said the little girl. "Maybe there's hope for you."

"Keeping real people here consumes resources," Pickles explained.

"What should we do with her?" asked Morgan le Fay.

"Torture her until she begs for death," replied Pickles, "and then torture her some more."

As Lord Moldywart pointed his deadly wand at the terrified Nadine, there was a sudden flash of light, and a tricycle appeared next to the girl.

Only this was no ordinary tricycle. It was a radioactive Play-Doh-powered time tricycle!

"Way to go, D.W.!" said Nadine with a smile.

Before Pickles and the three counselors could stop her, Nadine jumped on the tricycle, adjusted the control to go backwards in time, and started to pedal. A few seconds later she and the tricycle disappeared.

"Curses!" snarled Pickles.

Floating invisibly in the air, Nadine watched in awe as events transpired in reverse time below her. "More some her torture then and death for begs she until her torture," she heard Pickles say.

Suddenly a portal opened nearby, and both Marina and her cane rapidly descended through it. Seeing a chance for escape, Nadine steered the tricycle toward the portal and pedaled wildly. She passed through just before it closed.

Now in the real world again, she saw Prunella and D.W. below her, gazing at the astral portal. By the time she realized that the tricycle was still moving at considerable speed, she had already phased through the wall of Prunella's house.

"How do I stop this thing?" she wondered as the tricycle carried her over one city block after another.

Nadine pushed a button on the console, and the tricycle started to spin around. As she struggled to hold on, she watched the sun and moon flash through the sky in an alternating sequence-going from west to east. "I'm still going backwards!" she exclaimed.

Dazed and disoriented, she managed to push another button on the console, and everything went black...

She opened her eyes. She was lying on a bare wooden floor, the time tricycle overturned by her side. Picking herself up, she easily recognized the place as D.W.'s room. The clock read 2 a.m.

Awaked by the noise, D.W. sat up in her bed, yawned, and rubbed her eyes. It occurred to Nadine that something was different about this D.W.—she was younger and smaller.

D.W. gasped when she saw the strange little blond girl in her room. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm not really here," said Nadine. "You're imagining me."

"Okay," said D.W., satisfied with the explanation. "My name's D.W."

"I'm Nadine."

"Will you be my friend?"

"Sure."

The D.W. of the past hopped out of her bed, overjoyed at having her own imaginary friend. "What is that thing?" she asked, pointing at the tricycle.

"It's a time tricycle," said Nadine as she turned it over. "Some day I'll let you ride it."

In the present day the situation was getting tense, as Pickles had reappeared in the portal, fuming mad. "So you thought you could rescue Nadine with your little time toy. Well, I don't see her anywhere. She must still be on my side of the portal!"

D.W. closed her eyes and clenched her fists. "Come ON, Nadine!"

"You've only forced me to accelerate my plans," said Pickles, rising higher into the air. "Army of Spiritus Mundi...ATTACK!"

Not only the astral portal, but the entire room began to tremble.

Realizing that time had run out, Prunella leaped to her feet, grabbed one of the planks in the portal's wooden frame, and yanked it upward with all her might. The candles scattered and went out. The waves of light dissipated. The trembling ceased.

"NOOOOO..." shrieked Pickles as her body dissolved into mist.

Her heart pounding, Prunella grabbed a hammer from the top of her dresser and started to pry the nails from the wooden frame.

"Oh, I hope Nadine made it!" said D.W.

As if in response to her wish, Nadine and the time tricycle materialized with a popping sound and ran directly into the wall with a loud crash.

The squirrel girl tumbled to the floor and put her hands over her head. "Ooowww..."

"Nadine!" gushed D.W. "I've never been so happy to see you!"

Nadine pulled herself painfully to her feet. "I'm not riding that thing again until I get a pilot's license," she declared.

* * *

Later that day, Prunella invited some friends over to look at the time tricycle that Nadine had retrieved from Spiritus Mundi. The gathered throng included Marina, D.W., Nadine, Bonnie, Toru, Arthur, Alan, Francine, and Muffy. 

"I don't believe you," Francine said to Prunella. "There's no such thing as a real time machine."

"If you don't believe it, try it out and see for yourself."

"I'd look funny. Besides, I'll bet this is some kind of Halloween prank."

"All these stories about time travel and other dimensions are, like, totally entertaining, but I'm hungry," said Bonnie. "Where are the Halloween snacks?"

"Doesn't anybody want to ride it?" asked Prunella.

The other kids hesitated.

"I'll ride it," Alan offered. "If for no other reason, to debunk your theory."

"Go for it, Alan!" cheered D.W.

"What time period do you want to visit?" asked Prunella as Alan mounted the tricycle.

"Why not go forward to our high school graduation?" suggested Arthur.

"And bring back some hot stock tips while you're at it," said Muffy.

Alan perused the controls. "Hmm. This digital readout must tell me the current date and time. And this keypad is choosing a time to visit."

"Just start pedaling already," said Nadine.

"No, no," said Alan. "I need to be scientific about this. Now, our high school graduation will be in approximately eight years, eight months, and two weeks." He pushed some buttons on the console. "Okay, that should do it."

"I'm just waiting for green ink to start squirting all over you," joked Francine.

"Well, here goes nothing," said Alan.

"And here comes nothing," Bonnie added.

Alan started pedaling, and the environs of Prunella's house vanished before his eyes.

The next thing he knew, he was hovering high above Elwood City. The sun was in the center of the sky. He looked around and beheld that there was more traffic in the neighborhood than before, and the cars were more futuristic in style.

"I suppose I should try the high school," he thought.

He steered the tricycle in what he guessed was the direction of the high school, and started pedaling. As he sailed over the city, however, he heard a teenage boy's voice calling out to him. He knew immediately whom the voice belonged to.

"Hey, alien! Land here!"

Alan looked down, and sure enough, 18-year-old versions of Buster, Arthur, and Francine are gazing back up at him. He pointed the tricycle toward the ground and started to descend.

"Wait, that's not an alien," exclaimed Francine. "It's Alan Powers!"

"But he's a little boy," said Arthur.

"Then he was telling the truth about having traveled in time," Buster observed.

"Hey, guys," Alan greeted them as he floated onto the pavement.

"Good to see you, Alan from the past," said Arthur.

"I can't believe this thing really works," Alan marveled.

Teenage Arthur, Francine, and Buster invited Alan and his tricycle to Arthur's house, where they offered to fill him in on the events of the past nine years. Fourteen-year-old D.W. and ten-year-old Kate were also present.

"Do you expect me to believe that this is Alan Powers from nine years in the past?" said Kate incredulously.

"He's as cute as Alan," D.W. remarked.

"I don't believe in this time travel rubbish," Kate groused. "It's a scientific impossibility."

"And talking to dogs isn't?" D.W. chided her.

"Well, Alan," Francine began, "the first thing we should tell you is...Arthur and I are getting married!"

"Fantastic!" exclaimed Alan.

"That's right," said Arthur. "Three more months. Then we're on our way to college."

"What will you study?"

"I have a piano performance scholarship, and Francine has a women's football scholarship."

"Women's football? Times have really changed."

"I'll bet you want to know what happened to you," said Buster while eating out of a bucket of ice cream.

"What did happen to me?"

"You graduated last year. You skipped fourth grade. Now you're at Stanford on a minority scholarship."

"Stanford? Wow! What am I studying? Please say astrophysics!"

"Art history."

"D'oh!"

"As for me, ever since they found a cure for asthma, I've been inspired to become a doctor. And my grades are good enough that I can go to med school."

"Lucky for you. What about the other kids?"

"Muffy moved to Crown City," said Francine. "She's a fashion model now."

"And Binky's going to study chemistry," said Arthur, "but his real ambition is to become a pro wrestler."

"Van's graduating too," said Buster. "There were a few times we thought we would lose him, but he's still going strong."

"Fern's going to Hollywood," said Francine. "Jean Stiles is a big star now, and she says she can get Fern into pictures."

"Beat moved back to England," said Arthur. "She's going to attend Oxford. She wants to be prime minister some day."

The kids fell silent for a moment.

"Do you want to tell him about Sue Ellen?" Arthur asked Francine somberly.

"Oh, right," said Francine. "Five years ago doctors found a cure for AIDS. But it was a little too late for Sue Ellen."

"You mean..." Alan's heart began to sink.

"We think she picked it up at a hospital in Africa," said Arthur.

"Omigosh," Alan mourned. "I can't go back to the past with news like that."

"As I recall," said Buster, "when you came back you wouldn't tell us anything."

"I wouldn't?"

"You were afraid of interfering with the flow of time, or something like that," said Francine. "Plus, we didn't really believe that you traveled in time anyway."

"I did warn Sue Ellen, didn't I?" Alan wondered.

"If you did, it didn't make any difference," Arthur observed.

"It was really sad," Buster recalled. "Mr. Armstrong gave up his job after that. Became a professor. They had a few more kids. They're still here."

"What about Prunella?" asked Alan, trying to change the subject.

"She gave up the whole fortune-telling thing in fifth grade," said Francine. "Said she didn't want to make contact with any more evil forces, or something to that effect. She graduated last year, and now she and Rubella have opened a restaurant."

"Their chicken pot pie is out of this world," said Buster.

"Wait a minute, Buster," said Alan. "I thought you moved to Chicago."

"We did. We stayed there for about a year, and Dad didn't like the job, so we moved back."

"Do you want to stick around and meet everyone?" Arthur asked Alan. "There's a party at George's tonight."

"What's George up to?"

"His neck in scholarships!"

"He's got the best grades of any of us," said Francine.

"Sure, I'd love to come," said Alan.

Nine-year-old Alan stayed at Arthur's house for a few days, meeting most of his old friends. He talked a lot with Kate about science. Eventually he decided that the time had come to return to his own time.

In front of Arthur's house, the whole 18-year-old gang waved goodbye to Alan as he prepared to travel back to the past.

Then, just as he was about to start pedaling, he was overcome by curiosity.

He changed the console settings. Instead of instructing the tricycle to travel nine years into the past, he told it to go into the future. 802,701 years into the future, to be exact. His 18-year-old friends fondly watched him pedal and disappear.

He seemed to be stuck in the time vortex forever. Then, finally, the time tricycle slowed down and came to a stop.

He found himself in the middle of what appeared to be a crowded public square. Then he was suddenly surrounded...by the strangest creatures he had ever seen.

Humans.

(To be continued in Arthur Goes Fourth II)


End file.
